


Fellowship Of Heroes

by Nadja_Lee



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherhood, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love, Prophesy, Prophetic Visions, Romance, Sacrifice, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 140,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: Scott, Logan, Ororo and Rogue land in Middle Earth, in the middle of the forming of the Fellowship.The four X-men join the Fellowship on their Quest but aren’t sure if they are sent to save or destroy the Fellowship. Unbeknownst to them Sauron  has called an evil and power-hungry Phoenix to aid him. As Scott  fights with the realization he might have to battle his wife, Rogue  battles her own desires that the Ring feeds while Ororo and  Legolas fight their growing attraction.Will the four new  members of the Fellowship be able to save Boromir? Will  Phoenix help Sauron destroy Middle Earth? Will her plans change after learning of Faramir? Does Ororo hold the key to an  old prophesy and will the X-men ever manage to find a way back  home? Love, brotherhood, intrigue, drama, angst…emotions run  high as new bonds are formed and some give all.[This novel was released as a zine in 2007 and appears online for the first time]
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Ororo Monroe/Legolas Greenleaf, Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Kudos: 786





	1. Book 1: The Fellowship: Strangers in Middle Earth

**Author's Note:**

> According to Fanlore this novel is among my best work; take that as you wish :)  
> Note on the story: Phoenix was in the X-men comics a cosmic entity, which seemly took over Jean’s body and made her power hungry and evil. Her love for Scott and Xavier’s intervention brought her back…for some time at least. In the comics Ororo was worshipped as a Goddess in Africa due to her powers. Scott/Cyclops is listed in one of the newer comics as voting Democratic so I’ve let him keep that vote here. Scott’s background and childhood was taken from the comics.  
> Author’s notes: You need only have a superficial knowledge of both Lord Of The Rings and the X-men (meaning having seen the first X-men movie once and the Lord Of The Rings movies once) but nothing else. Though you can read this novel knowing only one world (for example Lord Of The Rings) then you’ll have more fun if you’ve seen X1 and can imagine how the X-men looks like. Please remember though that unless I choose it and it fits into the premise of this novel then I will ignore the LOTR books and the X-men comics, cartoons and any X-men films following X1.  
> Thanks to: All my betas and helpers and all the people who stuck with me through this. Special thanks to the readers who believed in me and wished me to publish this novel.  
> Beta by: Estelle, Jonas and Cathain. Thanks so much.  
> Final editing by: Jonas. Thanks again, sweetheart. Without you this story would be a poor excuse of a novel. I couldn’t have done it without you. *hugs*  
> Artwork by: Pencil art by Henrika (henrika15_@hotmail.com), cover art by Nadine (Crashdowngrrl@aol.com). Additional artwork by Bonnita Goulden (gbonnita@hotmail.com), RayOfLight/RavenEyes (raveneyes08@gmail.com), Paradise (Para8Dice@aol.com) and White Witch (whitewitch@poetic.com ).  
> Dedicated to: Mel who requested this story and all the people who have helped me finish it. Book 1’s chapter 11 is dedicated to Bani in fond remembrance.  
> Things written like *this* are things said in Elfish. Like ‘this’ are things spoken telepathically.

#  Book 1: The Fellowship

###  Chapter 1: Strangers in Middle Earth

The sun was setting over the Elven city named Rivendell in Middle Earth and the sun’s rays made the beautiful city shine like a jewel surrounded by the natural beauty of the forest. But despite its beauty the mood in the city was grim. In the meeting hall in Elrond’s palace it was being discussed what to do with the legendary One Ring which the Hobbit Frodo Baggins had brought with him. Twelve people were sitting around a round platform where the ring now lay.

“Why not use it? My country lies closest to Sauron’s land and my people have always fought against Sauron and his evil. By the blood of my people has nations such as this Elf city of Rivendell been kept safe. Why not finally use the Ring to our gain? Why not use it to destroy Sauron?” the human Boromir said from his seat.

Boromir was a handsome man in his late thirties. His hair was light blond, his eyes green and his beard was the same colour as his hair. He wore warm, fine clothes fitting his position as Gondor’s future ruler, taking the title as future Steward of Gondor since the old kingdom’s rightful King was still missing. By his right side he had a sword and by his left was a horn with which he, when he was in his own land, needed only blow in to call for help from his troops.

“You cannot will the Ring. No one can. Only Sauron can master it. The One Ring is too powerful to use for our own gain. It must be destroyed,” the only other human present spoke up. He was a man who looked to be around Boromir’s age. His hair was deep black and the same shoulder length as Boromir‘s. His eyes were also dark as were his fine Elfish clothes. He too had a sword by his side. Unlike Boromir whose eyes seemed haunted this human’s eyes were filled with determination and courage. He lived up to his mysterious reputation and he had been introduced to Boromir simply as Strider, a Ranger.

“Who are you to know of such things? You are but a ranger,” Boromir gave back. Did he not know what kind of peril his country was in? The Ring was his only hope to restore his country to its former glory.

“He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir to Gondor. Show him the respect he deserves,” Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood, defended his friend and stood up as to show he was ready to draw arms against any enemy of Aragorn’s. Legolas was a tall, slim man with the pointy ears all Elves had. He was handsome with long blond, almost white, hair and a regal face and posture. He wore fine Elfish clothes; tight formfitting pants, a shirt and a warm jacket over it which all present wore, merely in various different design.

“Gondor has no King,” there was pain in Boromir's words as if he had longed for someone to lighten the burden he now carried as the future leader of a war torn and war tired nation but dared not believe. “Gondor needs no King,” with those words Boromir sat down again.

“How dare…” Legolas began angrily, ready to defend his friend all the way.

*Sit down, Legolas, * Aragorn asked kindly and his friend did as bid but obviously didn't like it.

“Aragorn is right. The Ring must be destroyed,” Lord Elrond said. He was like all Elves beautiful with a slim built. He had long dark hair and on his head he wore a silver band to symbolise his status as leader of Rivendell. He wore a fine, long floating robe and no weapons but several Elven guards stood near, ready to spring into action. Normally he had no guards but these were dangerous times. Elrond had fought against Sauron 3000 years ago when Sauron had flesh and not like now where he was a spirit seeking power, a condition which probably made him even more powerful as he no longer had the vulnerabilities of flesh. It was also then he had seen the weakness and fall of men as the then King of Gondor had been unable to destroy the One Ring and thereby end all evil. He had established Rivendell as a refuge against Sauron and evil. The place was protected by the Elves’ magic but Elrond knew as did the wise, old wizard Gandalf who was also present at this meeting, that the Elves’ magic wasn't enough to hold back this new threat. The Ring had to be destroyed.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Gimli the dwarf said. Like all dwarfs he wasn’t very tall and reached a full grown human only to his stomach but he was strong and had a tight built. He had long dark hair and a long, dark beard and wore armour and a helmet. He took up his axe and slammed it with all his might down hard against the Ring. His axe broke but the Ring didn't even get one scratch.

Frodo grimaced in pain as Gimli’s axe hit the Ring. It was as if he felt its pain. Maybe it was because he had carried the Ring from his homeland, The Shire, to Rivendell or maybe it was because he on his way to Rivendell with his three childhood friends: his best friend and fellow Hobbit Sam and the two Hobbits Merry and Pippin, had received a fatal blow by an immortal blade from one of the 9 dark riders called Ringwraiths. Only thanks to Strider's beloved, Arwen, daughter of Elrond and princess of the Rivendell Elves who had taken him to the safety of Rivendell, had he survived but he would always carry the scar with him. Whatever it was Gimli’s attack seemed to pain him though he did not know why. Like all Hobbits Frodo had the size of an 8-year-old human child. His face was kind and youthful but on this day his eyes were filled with much worry.

“The Ring was made in the fire of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade,” Lord Elrond said and the people around him looked from one to another, realizing what this meant.

“Mount Doom lies deep inside Mordor, the land of Sauron. It's a wasteland. There’s unspeakable evil there. The all Seeing Eye is ever watchful. Not with 10.000 men could this be done,” Boromir protested.

“Lord Elrond speaks truth. The Ring must be destroyed,” Legolas said determined.

“The fate of the free world shall not rest in the hands of an Elf,” Gimli the dwarf protested.

“Would you do it?” Legolas gave back. The Elves and the dwarfs disagreed on almost all matters. While the Elves were educated, logical, fair and just people the dwarfs sought riches in the mountains and cared little for the trouble of others.

“There are other ways. We can use it,” Boromir tried again, unable to understand why these people could not see the dire need of his nation.

“The Ring can’t be willed....” Strider tried to explain once more.

Suddenly everyone began talking at once, old hates between the races were brought up and Frodo wanted to run away. The Ring seemed to grow more powerful by this display of distrust and discord.

“I’ll do it,” Frodo finally said and stood up and went towards the platform where the Ring lay and picked it up. “I'll take the Ring to Mount Doom. Though...I do not know the way,” he admitted softly and Gandalf smiled kindly. As he had told Frodo not long ago: you can learn all there is to know about Hobbits and their peaceful and quiet life in a month yet after 100 of years they can still amaze you.

“Then I shall go with you for as long as this burden is yours to carry,” Gandalf promised and went to Frodo’s side.

  
“My…” Aragorn began, about to make a solemn vow as he began to walk over to them as suddenly a blinding light appeared from above. The light seemed to form a hole the size of a door and was shining almost white. The portal seemed as if made from standing water yet it was impossible to see through.

“Frodo, get behind me,” Gandalf said and the small Hobbit hurried behind the wizard for protection. Aragorn quickly stood and drew his sword and went to stand protectively before the wizard and Frodo.

“I’ll defend you. With my life or my death if needs be,” Aragorn vowed seriously and Legolas quickly stood by his friend’s side and drew his bow. Legolas was a very skilled bowman and his eyesight was sharper than an eagle’s.

“Stay back, little one,” Boromir demanded and stood beside Aragorn’s other side and also drew his sword and took up his shield.

Gimli took up his axe and all in the hall stood ready for a fight, tensing as they watched the strange hole above them.

The blinding light intensified and the brightness hurt the Elves sensitive eyes yet they dared not level their eyes in fear of what might appear before them. Then suddenly out of the portal appeared a human form who landed on the stone floor with a loud *thug* that seemed to echo in the tense stillness the hole’s appearance had created.

“God damn it!” a male voice swore. A tall, muscular and handsome man with brown hair and eyes sat up and rubbed his neck. He wore blue pants with a large belt buckle and a green shirt with a blue jacket over it made in the same material as his pants. In the middle of the elegant Elves and finely dressed humans he looked very rugged with his simple clothes and short brown beard and seemed very out of place. He saw the battle ready people all around him and quickly got to his feet. Out of his hands suddenly appeared three metal claws on each hand. He sniffed the air to see if he could pick up a scent he recognised but all the smells that assaulted him were strange and new.

“Who the fuck are you? Where the hell am I? And where’s Marie?” he demanded to know. A man with pointy ears...actually most of the people around him had pointy ears, came forth from behind several guards who didn’t look happy to see their precious charge approach the dangerous stranger unarmed.

“I am Lord Elrond. Ruler of Rivendell and the Elven people of these lands. We mean you no harm,” Lord Elrond promised, his words sincere and his body language spoke of confidence and authority. The stranger sniffed the air in his direction and smelled no fear on Elrond at all, making him fear he was at a more serious disadvantage than being outnumbered.

“Whether or not we mean you harm depends on your business here, stranger, ” Boromir spoke up and the man noticed Boromir hadn't lowered his shield or his sword.

“I'm Logan. Now, where is Marie?” Logan demanded to know and began to like this Boromir character. If nothing else he was honest and up front.

“What do you...” Aragorn began to ask with a confused expression when suddenly a new figure appeared from the glowing portal above their heads.

“Ahhh!” A female voice screamed as she fell towards the stone floor of the Elven assembly hall.

“Marie!” Logan yelled and ran towards her, withdrawing his claws as he did so. He reached her position just in time and caught her as she came down. She clung to his arms and hid her face by his shoulder. She was a fragile, young looking human woman with brown hair and a white streak to it in front. She wore tight blue pants, a white blouse and long gloves.

“Oh, thank God. You’re alright,” she whispered, relief and joy evident in her voice. He stroked her over the hair in a loving and calming way.

“Shh. All is well now,” he promised and kissed the top of her head. Seeing this show of love and affection a look of understanding appeared in Aragorn’s eyes and he lowered his sword as did all save Boromir whose eyes held only suspicion and longing; a memory of pain and loss briefly flashing across his face before he got his emotions back under control.

“Strangers, from where do you...” Legolas began with curiosity as yet another figure appeared from above. Unlike Marie and Logan the female floated peacefully and gracefully towards the floor, her long white dress floating in the wind as did her long white hair.

“Logan. Rogue. I'm pleased to see you are well given the strange circumstances,” the woman’s voice held kindness and a wisdom beyond her youthful appearance. Legolas took an instant liking to her. Her slim built, soft beauty and pale hair reminded him of Elven women but there was something about her; a grace…something he had never seen before. More than just the fact that he had never seen a human with brown skin then she possessed a quality to her eyes and posture than made her truly stunning in a way that far transcended physical appearances.

“Ororo!” Marie said happily and gave her a big hug as she landed beside her and Logan.

Suddenly, just as the light above seemed to grow fainter, yet another figure appeared.

“Wha....Arrr!” the man yelled as he realized he was falling towards a stone floor. Ororo called the wind to her and quickly flew up and caught him and guided him safely to the ground. As his feet met the stone floor the light above died away completely and the portal closed as if it had never been there. The newly arrived man wore black pants, a white shirt and red glasses. He seemed very youthful in appearance though it was hard to tell when one couldn’t see his eyes.

“Scott, are you alright, my friend?” Ororo asked kindly though with slight worry in her face and eyes. Scott nodded and smiled at her.

“Yes, thank you. Are you all alright?” his eyes went from Ororo to Logan and Rogue, scanning his surroundings to be sure this was all of his people who had been sent here and felt both relieved and disappointed when he saw his beloved wife, Jean, were not among them and feverishly hoped this meant she was safely back in their own world.

“More or less,” Logan complained, keeping a firm grip around Rogue’s waist with one hand as she faced Ororo and Scott and nodded her head to indicate they were fine.

Scott looked from Logan and Rogue back to Ororo by his side to assure himself they were really unhurt before his eyes settled on the more or less battle ready figures around him. He had ignored them when he had just arrived since they had not attacked and had settled on making sure his friends were alright but now his eyes found a man who he believed to be a man with some authority.

“I'm sorry if we have disturbed something. We mean you no harm,” he promised, talking to the Lord Elrond. Elrond nodded, choosing to believe the human’s words. For now at least.

“No need to apologize though I am interested as to know from where you came,” he said, making the words a question and letting Scott know he wanted and needed answers soon. “Please, do take a seat,” he indicated the now empty chairs around the low stone pillar where the Ring had been laying moments earlier before the interruption.

Rogue couldn’t help but look at the fine, fragile looking artwork of the place around them and the Elves’ pointed ears. The room was open to the outdoors, showing a beautiful forest view and all around them were curves and decorations in the woodwork. This room was obviously part of some large and very fine house…probably a palace from the grandeur of what she could see of it and Rogue got the feeling as if she had stepped into a fairytale or a dream.

“Wow,” she mumbled as she walked with Logan to the table.

“It is beautiful. Like a civilisation which is as natural a part of the surrounding forest as the trees,” Ororo commented softly, in awe over the beauty and harmony of the place as she looked out one of the open arcs of the room and saw the untouched forest before her.

Ever the strategist and commander Scott checked for exists and escape routes and saw Logan did the same though with less intensity, sure that his superior strength and skills would make an escape possible, especially since most of his opponents were fragile looking and pointy eared or had the size of a child. Scott, however, was not so quick to let these factors count to their advantage, knowing well that strength could come in many shapes and forms; his beloved mentor Xavier, a man unable to walk but who had several PhDs and who were probably the world’s greatest telepath, were proof of this.

Rogue, Ororo, Marie and Scott sat down on the chairs some of Elrond’s men had provided and the others retook their seats. Used to seeing people with many different mutations the X-men quickly got used to the differences of the Elves, Hobbits and Dwarfs and no longer looked intensely at the parts of them, which were different from themselves. When Scott had first meet Logan and Rogue six years ago he surely had never imagined he would be introducing them to people whose world they had literally fallen into but then a lot of the things he had done over the years he had never imagined himself doing at that time.

“Maybe we should start with the introductions,” Scott broke the strange silence which had suddenly settled over the hall as everyone’s eyes were on the X-men. “My name’s Scott Summers. This is Ororo Monroe, ” his hand found Ororo‘s who sat beside him and held it for a brief moment. “This is Marie, called Rogue,” with his right hand he indicated Marie who sat to his left side as Ororo sat to his right. “The man beside her is Logan, her husband of three years. ” Logan gave a small nod of his head at Scott's introduction, a guarded look in his eyes and one of his hands had a firm grip on one of Rogue’s, their intertwined hands laying on her leg.

“Allow me then to introduce the people present here,” Lord Elrond said, taking charge of the situation. “This is Legolas, prince of Mirkwood,” Elrond nodded towards him and the youthful looking Elf rose and gave a formal bow before he retook his seat as Scott acknowledged his bow with a nod, Ororo with an elegant hand movement, Rogue with a smile and Logan with a raised eyebrow. “The human by his side is Aragorn, called Strider. My foster son, the love of my daughter, Arwen Evenstar, and the rightful heir to the kingdom of Gondor,” at his foster father's words Strider also rose and gave them a formal bow before he sat down again after the X-men’s repeated show of acknowledgement. “The human beside him is the warrior Boromir, eldest son of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor and Minas Tirith, the City of Kings.” Boromir merely gave them a half nod.

“Steward?” Marie mumbled confused to Logan who shrugged his shoulders to indicate he either didn’t know what it meant or didn’t find it important enough to drawl on.

“He leads Gondor in the King's absence,” Lord Elrond explained. Marie blushed. She hadn't intended for him to hear her. “The dwarf is Gimli, the Hobbit is Frodo Baggins, the Ring bearer and the wizard is Gandalf. I am Lord Elrond, ruler of the Rivendell and the Elves living here,” Lord Elrond introduced the rest of the nearest people around Scott with a hand movement to each and they all nodded towards him in greeting and the X-men nodded back. The others who hadn’t been introduced he noticed had to be Elves as well since they had the same slim build and pointy ears as Lord Elrond who had spoken.

“A good question would be where the hell are we?” Logan demanded to know and earned a killer look from beneath Scott's red glasses for his choice of foul language which Logan ignored as completely as he ignored Scott’s request for him not to keep his beer in the students fridge and not to leave his cigars lying around. On the other hand Scott also requested the same of Remy, a student who would graduate this year, but the French speaking man from New Orleans still left his smokes everywhere.

“You are in the Elven city Rivendell in Middle Earth,” Lord Elrond explained politely enough but confusion was in his eyes as to why they needed to ask this.

“Does America, Europe…Britain mean anything to you?” Scott asked, not sure how to take Elrond’s words.

Elrond shook his head. “I have never heard those names before.”

“How about Britannia, the Roman Empire, Athens, Greece, Egypt, Cairo…China?” Scott tried, thinking they might, somehow, have gone back in time. He knew of mutants who had the ability to time travel.

“I am sorry but those words have no meaning to me either,” Elrond said regretfully.

“Great. We're on another fuckin’ planet,” Logan complained, hiding the discomfort of this fact with sarcasm. If nothing were like Earth they could be in serious danger here since they would have no point of reference; even laws of Physics might be different even though this didn’t appear to be so.

“It would seem so…or a parallel reality but either way it seems we’re in a world that is still in the Dark or at least the Middle Ages,” Scott said seriously, his words asking for caution as his thoughts went to his history lessons of witch hunts and terrible torture chambers that they had had in the Dark Ages on Earth.

“How did we get here?” Rogue asked curiously. One moment she had been at the large mansion or rather boarding school for mutants that Xavier had founded and where Ororo and Scott lived, having a quiet lunch with her husband in between the classes they taught and the next moment she had been here. As far as she could gather the transportation seemed to have orientated from here and not from their side…unless of course whoever had brought them here didn’t need to be near them to do so. Just thinking about it gave her a growing headache for thinking like this the possibilities were endless.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Elrond assured her. He turned to Gandalf. “Do you know how it could be possible to bring strangers from such far away lands here in such a magical way?”

“I do not have the power or knowledge to do this but I cannot dismiss that the Elders of my kin may,” Gandalf explained.

“So we don’t know where we are, how we got here and therefore not how to get back either. Just wonderful,” Logan mumbled. “Why does this always happen to us?”

Scott smiled faintly at Logan’s usual dry sense of humour but knew it was a rhetorical question…even if he was right. This kind of thing **did** seem to happen disturbingly often to them. Maybe he should ask one of the mansion’s telepaths to check out the mansion’s ground to be sure they didn’t live on a kind of inter-dimensional or otherwise energy loaded hotspot.

“May I ask what we were interrupting as we…entered?” Ororo asked Lord Elrond, trying to focus on something else than their predicament which didn’t seem to have any immediate solution anyway.

The Elf's eyes clouded over with worry as Ororo’s words brought his thoughts back to the serious manner that had been the reason for this meeting. “I was to gather a fellowship to journey to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring,” he said grimly.

“What? Who? A Ring? What the fuck is going on?” Logan asked confused, beginning to wonder if he was dreaming despite the many strange things he had been through as an X-man.

“The One Ring was forged…” Lord Elrond began, warming up to a full blown history lesson on the subject.

“The short version, thanks. You,” Logan pointed towards Strider. “Explain this Ring business to us in as few sentences as possible. I'll like to have this over with sometime before the next millennium.”

Strider and Elrond both looked momentarily shocked at Logan’s words but as Elrond nodded to Strider to indicate it was all right he began to explain. “The Ring is evil. It must be destroyed or all of Middle Earth will fall to ruin. It can only be destroyed in Mount Doom but the journey there is very hard and filled with danger. Furthermore the Ring has a will of its own. It can corrupt good men. It represents all negative things. Pick it up and those dark and evil feelings will consume you and finally destroy you,” his voice was as pained as if he himself had failed to resist the Ring’s power or otherwise was personally to blame for its existence.

“That must be why we’re here,” Scott thought out loud.

“Explain,” Lord Elrond demanded.

“Well, my friends and I do not belong to this realm or time. But I do believe we were sent here for a purpose. That purpose I now see is to help you destroy the Ring and bring peace back to your world,” Scott said seriously though with a feeling of relief that he at least had figured out a likely reason for their displacement.

“You get placed out of your time a lot?” Boromir asked, a hint of amusement and disbelief in his voice.

“It happens more often than you would think,” Logan mumbled.

“I do not know if you and your friends should be on this quest. It is very dangerous,” Lord Elrond said doubtful, his eyes going especially to the two women in the party. It hadn’t escaped Ororo and Rogue’s attention that they were the only women present.

“We're not exactly helpless here,” Logan interjected in a somewhat annoyed tone.

“In our time we're called mutants. We have...special powers,” Scott explained more calmly.

“Are you wizards?” Gandalf asked, intrigued.

“No, we…It’s easier if we show you,” Scott said, pretty sure an explanation about DNA and genes would mean nothing to these people. He rose from his seat. “Stand up,” he asked of Ororo and Marie and Logan stood as well. “Ororo can control the weather and fly,” Scott explained and as he nodded towards her with a smile Ororo let a wind lift her a few centimetres above the stone floor and as her eyes turned white a small rain cloud appeared beneath her right hand.

“Very impressive,” Lord Elrond said for all of them. Ororo dissolved the cloud and landed gracefully on her feet.

“Very impressive indeed, my lady,” Legolas said softly and since she had landed close to his seat he rose and took her right hand and guided it to his lips. Ororo blushed prettily and Scott smiled at the young Elf's obvious fascination with his friend.

“Logan here can make claws come out from his hands,” as Scott said it so did claws appear from Logan’s hands.

“We saw this earlier,” Boromir said dryly as Logan withdrew his claws again.

“Besides that he has a heightened sense of smell and hearing and he heal faster than any human. His skeleton is metal and he can survive almost any wound,” there was no bragging or threat in Scott’s voice; just a stating of facts.

“Like an Elf,” Lord Elrond said. Scott looked puzzled at him and he elaborated, “Elves have eternal life but can choose a mortal one. They also have heightened senses.”

“Okay.” Scott let that piece of information sink in. Especially the immortal part could come in handy in a battle. He indicated Rogue with a wave of his hand. “Rogue can absorb the life-force from any one she touches and thereby gain their memories and powers.”

“This is one power you’ll not wish to see demonstrated,” Rogue said grimly, clearly tormented by her power that had cursed her with an inability to touch and Logan held her close to his chest with one arm around her waist, holding her gloved right hand tight with the other in comfort.

“That power is one I fear will do you no good. Our opponents will be Orcs and the sinister, black-cloaked Ringwraiths who are neither living nor dead but cursed to live in the twilight world of Sauron. I am not sure what such beings would do to your… warrior,” Strider said and accepted Rogue as a warrior, acknowledging that these strangers had other rules and traditions than Middle Earth had where a woman could never be a warrior.

Rogue shivered as she heard Aragorn’s words. It sounded terrible should she be forced to absorb such beings.

“And yourself?” Lord Elrond inquired.

“I can shot through almost anything with my eyes. Like this,” Scott took a coin from his pocket and threw it up into the air. He lifted his glasses and a beam of red energy left his eyes. As the coin landed in his hand again he put his glasses back on and held the coin up for the others to see. There was a hole right in the middle of it.

“You speak truth. You are great warriors,” Lord Elrond agreed with respect colouring his voice.

“You can join the Fellowship with Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir, Gandalf, Frodo...”

“Mr. Frodo goes nowhere without me,” a young male Hobbit suddenly appeared and said, his voice strong and firm as he interrupted Elrond’s declaration. Frodo lightened up in a big smile and the two Hobbits embraced.

“Samwise. I should have known you would be here even when only Frodo was called to this secret meeting and you were not,” Lord Elrond said good naturedly. “You can go with him,” he gave him.

“Us too,” two other male Hobbits said in union.

“Merry and Pippin. You can come too,” Lord Elrond gave in with a small smile.

“Good for you need some intelligent people on this journey...quest...trip...” Pippin said.

“Well, that rules you out,” Merry teased.

“By the way…where are we going?” Pippin asked, ignoring his friend. The others laughed, letting the Hobbit’s innocence lighten the solemn mood.

“So, you thirteen will be the Fellowship. You will depart come morning; there is no time to waste,” Lord Elrond announced and people began to go to get ready to leave the hall and prepare for the coming departure.

“Lord Elrond,” Scott stopped him as he was to leave the hall.

“Yes?” the Elf said and turned back to face him.

“May I ask why you will not accompany us?”

“Sauron’s forces have gathered. Soon they will attack Rivendell. I have to stay and insure my people’s safety,” Lord Elrond explained and Scott nodded understanding.

“Before you go pick up a sword each from the armoury. Legolas or Aragorn can show you the way,” Lord Elrond said before he departed with his helpers and soon there were only Logan, Marie, Ororo and Scott left in the hall.

“I’ll ask Legolas to show me to the swords,” Ororo said and flew after the young Elf and Scott smiled warmly. Two such warm souls as those two were destined to be soul mates. As he watched he saw Ororo land gracefully besides the young Elf who lit up in a brilliant smile as he saw her and they began to walk together towards the armoury, deep in conversation. The three remaining X-men begun to walk more slowly through the Elven palace to give them time to talk, following behind Ororo and Legolas.

“Okay, this is completely insane. I mean an all powerful ring? Dwarfs? Vulcan look-alikes?!” Logan said disbelieving, not fully convinced he wasn’t dreaming. He knew he should never had let Rogue talk him into babysitting some of the students when they had went to see a Star Trek movie a few days back. This was obviously his unconscious mind protesting that.

“I know, Logan. This is a very strange place but I see no way back. We were sent here for a reason.”

“Maybe it was just one of those very unlucky things which seem to happen to me whenever you come to visit Marie and me,” Logan half joked, referring to the house just outside the school he had moved into with Marie after their wedding. Though Xavier had offered them a bigger room in the mansion where they taught the mostly boarding mutant students they had wished something more private. Scott and Jean hadn’t moved out even after their wedding due to Jean’s position as the school’s medic besides working at a hospital downtown and Scott’s position as second in command of the school after Xavier and leader of the X-men which had their base underneath the mansion. Logan had known Scott for six years and he had been his best man at his wedding but though they were brothers in arms they disagreed on almost everything save one; they respected and trusted each other.

“Very funny,” Scott complained but smiled anyway.

“Do you trust them?” Logan asked him seriously and Scott’s mood sobered.

“I wish Jean or another telepath had come with us and could confirm their seemly good intentions but yes, for now. Within limits…I do.” Though he would have wished Jean with him he was also glad that she wasn’t stuck here with them in what would most likely prove to become a dangerous situation.

Logan nodded in agreement and looked up when he heard people approach and saw Legolas and Ororo coming back towards them. Legolas carried all the swords for them but stopped a little away from them. Ororo smiled at him as to reassure him that all was safe and flew towards Scott.

“We better get going and see what else we need to pack for this mission or else we’ll fall behind,” Ororo warned as she landed beside him.

Scott nodded agreement. “Let's go,” he said and they went to Legolas who handed out the swords. After some trouble with how to get the swords strapped on they began to consider what else they might need. The rest of the evening was then spent packing food and some clothes that the Elves of Rivendell lent them. While it was unheard of to give females pants and not dresses Rogue and Ororo had managed it due to the fact that they weren’t really counted as women but as warriors and part of the Fellowship. Beautiful as the dresses they had been offered had been then they would have been impossible to keep warm in as well as hell to fight and march in. Rogue and Logan were given a room in the beautiful Elven palace and Scott and Ororo chose to share one for the safety and strength in numbers; they had after all just now met these people.

They had a peaceful night in the Elven city and come morning they were departing. Strider had a horse with him but the others walked on foot. All save Legolas carried a sword with them. Legolas had only his trusted bow and two very fine daggers. Also Boromir and Aragorn carried daggers; Aragorn’s was made by the Elves while Boromir’s was from his own people.

“How long do you think it’ll take for us to make this trip?” Logan asked Scott as they were about to move out, the X-men keeping to themselves.

“I saw some maps over Middle Earth and though the world resembles Earth none of the countries or apparent places and mountains does. Since we have to make the journey on foot I’m guessing it’ll take maybe 8 weeks…This is an estimate of course since I don’t know the terrain nor did I understand the scale of the map. It’ll probably take more if weather, enemies or anything else interferes. Also that count doesn’t include any…magic we may run into. After our mission here is complete, to assist these people, maybe whoever send us here will send us back as we would have served our purpose.” Despite what they had seen in the past and been told here none of the X-men were sure if they believed in magic and immortality as they had seen no hard proof of this.

“Camping for 8 weeks…This will turn out to be your favourite assignment yet,” Rogue teased her husband to drive away the thoughts of all that could go wrong and especially trying not to consider that they actually didn’t know with certainty what the purpose of their stranding here was or how to get back.

“It’ll also be revenge for all the camping vacations you never wanted to take,” Logan gave back with a teasing smile.

“I just hate camping,” she admitted, a bit more serious now. The cold, the bugs, the lack of a shower or a toilet or anything else…she didn’t even like camping at home and this was even worse; no car, no stereo, no laptops...Why could they never strand someplace nice, warm and technologically advanced?

“I know, darlin’…I’ll try and make it as easy for you as possible,” Logan promised heartfelt, all teasing gone.

“This is where I think Jubilee would have said…get a room,” Scott replied to lift the mood and succeeded in drawing smiles from everyone.

Gandalf began to lead the small band out of the beautiful Elven city and towards the mountains. As Scott turned around to take one last look at the Elven city he saw a beautiful young Elf woman wave towards them and Strider lifted his hand and waved back before he turned around and walked on, a sad and tormented look on his face.

“Half-dead bad guys, the world about to end…yep, it's just another normal day at the office,” Logan grunted as they walked on.

“At least there's no statues or train stations around here,” Scott comforted with a teasing smile.

“Oh, shut up, Scooter.”

Laughter could be heard as the Fellowship walked towards the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2: Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men and the Fellowship learn more about each other.

### Chapter 2: Getting To Know You

“We must have walked for hours,” Rogue complained as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon. Her legs felt like stone and never had she been so tired. She looked ahead and saw Gandalf in the lead with the fellowship walking in a line behind him over the mountain with Logan and her as the rear, Scott walking in front of them.

  
“We have walked for about 10 hours,” Ororo let them know, estimating this from the position the sun had moved since their departure, having calculated like this when she had been a child in Africa. Ororo’s position was further up in the line of the fellowship where she flew a few centimetres above the hard mountain stone beside Legolas who had no trouble jumping from stone to stone and who to Rogue looked irritatingly fresh and neat; no sweat or dirt on him at all.

  
“Thanks. Ah really needed to hear that,” Rogue said sarcastically and Logan gave her hand a gentle squeeze, knowing it was hard on her. With his healing factor and being used to a rough life the trip had not been hard. Ororo had been able to fly so it hadn’t been too hard on her and Scott had probably trained himself to withstand pretty much anything in one of his Danger Room exercises. The Danger Room was a new invention to the mansion that Scott liked a lot for his battle drills. It was a holographic room which could simulate landscapes and with machines posing as enemies so the X-Men could train their skills or simulate a plan of attack. Scott was nothing if not the ever-prepared Boy Scout and even if he weren’t prepared then as leader of the X-men he would never admit to any weakness unless he felt it helped their case in some way. Yet Rogue had never been used to such a hard journey and why would she? There had been no logical reason to prepare for having to walk more or less for ten straight hours up a hard and cold mountainside. Trying to offer all the support he could Logan had held her hand from the time they had started out from Rivendell and had not let go of her.

  
“We haven't even had second breakfast,” Pippin complained from where he walked  
beside Merry and Boromir who had taken an instant liking to the two misbehaving Hobbits.

  
“You had breakfast. And for the tenth time; we didn’t stop for lunch today and we won’t stop for lunch any other day either,” Strider said from further up in the line where he walked with Frodo and Sam just behind Gandalf, his patience obviously wearing thin with the two Hobbits who had come under Boromir’s protection the way Strider had taken Sam and Frodo under his wings.

  
“I swear this is worse than one of your training sessions, Scooter,” Logan bummed and Scott laughed.

  
“I thought you said nothing was as bad as one of my sessions.”

  
“Well, I've just found it,” Logan retorted.

  
“It will be dark soon. We will have to rest for the night,” Legolas said to them all.

  
“Ororo, fly up and see if you can find a safe spot for us to camp for tonight,” Scott asked and Ororo did as bid.

  
“I can see some stones a few miles further up. It's not much but it will grant us some safety,” Ororo told them as she got back and landed beside Legolas and blushed under his openly admiringly stare. Though the ability to fly was rare even for mutants on Earth few had looked at her powers as a source for admiration. Only her people in Africa had done so yet when she had entered the ‘civilised’ world her powers had been cause only for scorn, discrimination and fear.

  
“We will make camp there,” Gandalf declared and as soon as they had reached their goal, Merry and Pippin began to prepare for dinner.

  
After dinner Boromir thought it was about time that his two little friends learned how to defend themselves and began to show them some moves though the lesson quickly ended in play and laughter.

Gandalf stood watching the horizon and smiled at the playfulness of the two Hobbits, Gimli looked disappointed as Gandalf had denied going through the mountains through Gimli’s cousin’s tunnels as he had suggested. Frodo and Sam sat talking and seemed very content in each other's company. Strider sat a little away from Frodo though he had positioned himself so if anyone wanted to reach Frodo they had to go through him. Legolas was as fresh and athletic as ever and jumped from stone to stone while keeping a watchful eye out for any danger. Ororo flew to hover beside him.

  
“Tell me more about your people,” Ororo asked of the Elf prince, wanting to know more about his culture and past.

  
“What would you like to know?” Legolas asked kindly, shifting his gaze from observing the horizon and the slowly setting sun to grace her with a small but warm smile before he returned to his observation.

  
“Your history, your culture...your customs,” she asked, intrigued by a race that could do what seemed impossible; live forever.

  
“We are an old people; in all of Middle Earth no beings have as gathered and ordered a society as we. The Elves have many secrets and many gifts; we can heal wounds, we craft the best blades for weapons, we know all known history from time long gone by and we are immortal,” Legolas turned from his observation of the sky and towards her. He smiled to her and reached for her hand. His smile widened as she gracefully laid her hand in his offered one.

  
“You can never die?” Ororo asked, fascinated but puzzled as to how this could be so. “To never die is not the nature of things. Dying is a natural part of living.”

  
“My eyes tell me you are human yet you speak with the wise and gentle soul of the greatest among the Elven kind,” Legolas said softly and she smiled, blushing.

  
“Thank you.” For a moment they just looked at each other before Ororo break eye contact and continued their debate. “So, your race can die?”

  
“Yes. We cannot die from old age or disease. We stop ageing when we reach adulthood. But we can die from grief or if we are slain in battle,” he explained and Ororo shivered at the thought of killings.

  
“Killing and battle is not in your nature, is it?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. Most humans he had encountered enjoyed power and battle. Only Aragorn was different yet he would kill anyone who threatened him or his. Aragorn he could understand. He had been raised by Elves and had learned their way of life and Legolas had known him since he had been a child when he had visited Lord Elrond's court. But this woman...so regal in posture; almost like a Goddess, with a pure soul and warm heart. She was a mystery to him and a sign to him that there was hope still for the human race though he knew that Lord Elrond thought otherwise. To Lord Elrond Aragorn was his son and an Elf, for his disappointment in humans was still too fresh in his mind for him to call his adopted son human.

  
“No. I wish peace for all beings, big or small, put on this world,” Ororo explained, her passion and conviction in her words shinning through in her eyes and determined look.

  
“Spoken like an Elf,” Legolas acknowledged with a hint of surprise and Ororo smiled.

  
“Then your people is truly an admirable one since you seek neither riches nor glory nor do you possess human weaknesses like greed or jealousy,” Ororo said and meant every word.

  
“When you’re in touch with nature it is not hard to love all living things,” Legolas said and with a wave of his hand indicated the land around him.

  
“I too can hear the land talk. I can hear if there is rain coming or if a storm is under way,” Ororo told him. He smiled and used the grip his hand still had on hers to drew her a little closer to him.

  
*Are you really here or are you just a dream?* Legolas whispered softly in his native tongue as he looked into her eyes, enchanting them both with the power and emotion of the moment. So often had he wished to find a perfect love but he knew it was a rare thing to find even if one lived forever. Yet, here was a woman so matched to him she was like the other part of his soul; the missing piece that could complete him. He could feel how well matched their souls were, had felt it from the first moment he had seen her. Yet could he really love a woman who he knew nothing about save her name? A woman from a world not his own? His soul said yes but his mind advised caution. She was not Elfkind and might not understand that the wisdom of the Elves enabled them to love by souls and not bodies and that the power of the Elves enabled them to recognize a soul that could complete them from first sight.  
  
“You really care for him, don’t you?” Scott asked as he let Rogue and Logan be alone for a while and went to sit beside Strider, with a hand indicating he meant Frodo. The fact that Strider’s hand had found the handle of his sword as he had neared him hadn’t gone unnoticed by Scott.

  
“Frodo is our last hope,” Strider explained shortly.

  
“You don’t like us being here, do you?” Scott asked forwardly.

Strider turned to look at him. “Honestly? No. We know nothing about you or how or why you came here.”

  
“Had we wanted to harm you we would have done so by now,” Scott said, not the least offended by Strider’s distrust since he himself also had clear limits to how far he trusted the others and he knew had he been in Strider’s position he would have had the same suspicions.

He had himself wondered how and why they had landed in Middle Earth. Any number of people could have brought them here; from wizards to mutants. Though the question that troubled Scott the most was another: Had they been send to save the fellowship…or break it?

  
“Maybe you do mean good but you could still be a danger to Frodo. We all could be,” Strider said pained.

  
“Why?” Scott asked mystified, trying to get comfortable sitting on the hard and cold mountainside, silently amazed by how used to it Strider seemed to be. The older man seemed so used to this rough life that he actually made sitting here look comfortable.  
  


“The power of the Ring. As I told you it corrupts men; feeds on their greed. One man had the Ring in his hand, had the one chance to destroy it and its evil once and for all...but he could not. He let greed and human weaknesses control his actions, and evil survived. He...” Strider took a deep breath at the thought of his recurring nightmare. “...He was my ancestor,” he finished, the admission coming out in shame.

  
“So?” Scott asked puzzled, not seeing what that had to do with Strider. “Wasn’t this long ago?”

  
“3000 years ago, but do you not see? His weakness floats in my veins. The same blood, the same weakness,” Strider said, his voice intense. 

  
Scott had never heard such pain and doubt in a man’s voice before and didn’t know what to do. He was still unsure if he even believed the Ring had any power at all. He had asked Gandalf on the way if he couldn’t just use his eye beams on the Ring and destroy it that way, but Gandalf had looked concerned at Frodo and told him that the Ring could only be unmade in Mount Doom, the place where it had been forged.

“A wise man once told me that we forge our own destiny,” Scott said softly, trying to offer hope to the man beside him who seemed very agonised about the burden he felt he was carrying.

  
“Was this man your father?” Strider asked, getting a hunch from the admiration and warmth he had felt in Scott’s voice.

  
“No. I have no family. It was my mentor; a man who raised me to be more than I was born to be, who took a battered and lost street kid and forged a leader,” Scott explained shortly but with gratitude and warmth in his voice. He didn’t like to discuss his family with anyone but it seemed like family and inheritance was very important here yet he had none. He had lost his parents in a plane crash and his baby brother had been adopted and he had never managed to track him down. The plane crash had given him brain damage which was why he could never turn off his eye beams and always had to wear the red glasses that coloured his world in shades of red. He himself had never been adopted because as soon as people had heard the word ‘brain damage’ they would run far away, even though the damage was to an area of the brain which no human ever used and which mutants used only to turn their mutant powers on and off.

  
“Hmm,” Strider just said, not sure how to offer comfort to a man who apparently had no lineage.

For a while they just sat in silent thought. Scott noticed the silver angel like necklace Strider had around his neck. It seemed strangely out of place with all his black clothes to wear such a light and white jewel, its fine and delicate look in sharp contrast to Strider’s rugged look.  
“I don't mean to prey, but your necklace...” Scott began.

  
“It was given to me by Arwen, my beloved, as a token of her love for me and our union.” With his left hand he gently caressed the jewel. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough he could almost feel her warm arms around him again. “She gave this to me...as she offered to give up her own immortality to be with me.”

There was love, sadness at her loss and a great longing for his beloved in his  
voice and Scott smiled warmly, not knowing that though it had been the hardest decision of his life Aragorn had not been able to accept Arwen’s pledge of love, not wishing to condemn his beloved to the pains and sorrows of mortal life.

  
“You will see her again,” Scott promised, wishing to comfort, though he knew it was promise he had no right to give. As he spoke the promise he silently hoped he could say the same for Jean and himself. Strider smiled weakly and was about to answer when Legolas’ voice stopped him.

  
“Birds are approaching,” Legolas said to Ororo as he faced the horizon again. His eagle  
sharp eye searched the sky. Further, further...

“Seek cover! These creatures obey Sauron’s command!” Legolas called out and everyone who had been sitting rose at once.

  
Strider ran to Sam and Frodo and carried them with him behind a big stone where he laid himself protectively above them. Boromir carried Merry and Pippin to safety and like Aragorn used his body as a shield. Logan pulled Rogue down with him and used his body as her shield, knowing his healing factor would protect him from any serious harm. Legolas jumped with Ororo behind a stone and held his hands on her arms in a loose embrace, ready to pull her with him if danger was upon them. Gandalf and Gimli sought cover and Scott threw himself down behind some bushes. Everyone held their breaths until the birds had passed.

  
“All clear,” Logan said before Legolas could say so. Having faced the other way and been talking with Rogue Logan had heard the birds but had seen no reason for panic. The X-men began to emerge but it wasn’t until Legolas a few seconds later confirmed that the coast was clear that Strider and the others began to come out from their hiding place.

  
“Shouldn't we have been told there were evil animals here besides the half dead riders you mentioned earlier?” Scott complained to Strider, not liking being out of the loop if it could put his team in danger.

  
“There are animals working for Sauron. Now you know,” Strider said shortly and began gathering his things. “Sauron now knows where we are. We have to move further up the mountain. Break up camp,” he ordered.

  
“I will fly ahead and find us a safe place for the night,” Ororo said and flew a  
few centimetre’s above the ground, her hand still in Legolas’.

  
“Be careful,” Legolas asked and she smiled and nodded. As she flew further  
away their hands fell apart.

  
“Don’t do anything rash. Call for us if you find anything suspicious,” Scott  
called after her, concern for his friend evident in his voice.  
  


“Yes, in this place a frog could be deadly,” Rogue warned, being to realize this mission would prove more dangerous than anyone of them had first thought.

  
“Just look for anything dark and ugly. That’ll be the bad guys,” Logan called after her and Ororo laughed, for a second forgetting the danger and trials ahead.

With Ororo leading the way, flying before them, the fellowship was on the move up the mountain once more.

  
“Remind me to take out all the mountains from the Danger Room simulations when we get back. After this I think we’ve all had more than enough mountains to last us a lifetime,” Scott said, sounding out of breath as they moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3: A Storm Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets to know each other a bit better

### Chapter 3: A Storm Is Coming  
  


They had walked for many days now. As they had gone further up into the mountains, the weather had become steadily colder. Ororo tried to hold back the cold as much as she could but even she could not hold back that much cold which resulted in them having to walk in deeper and deeper snow. The cold didn’t bother Ororo whose mutation meant she was unaffected by any weather nor did it affect Logan whose healing factor would do likewise but Rogue and Scott were freezing despite wearing all the thick clothes the Elves had given them.

  
Suddenly Frodo lost his footing in the slippery snow and started to fall down the mountain. Strider quickly caught him and lifted him back to his feet.

  
“Are you unharmed?” he asked and Frodo nodded, though he looked a bit shaken. He immediately searched for the Ring that he wore in a chain around his neck. It was gone. He looked panicked to Strider and then to the way he had fallen. Boromir had turned around as he had heard Frodo’s yell when he had fallen, ready to assist him and now picked up the Ring; careful to only touch it with his gloved hands. He looked intensely at it. Could this Ring save his country from destruction? If not, what other hope was there left?

  
“It is strange that we shall suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir whispered. He looked closer at the golden band. Did this Ring really possess so much power? Enough power to save his people? A strange whisper in his mind seemed to insist this was so. The whisper grew stronger the longer he looked at the Ring.

  
“Such a little thing,” Boromir added wondering, getting lost in the seemly simple truth the whisper in his mind offered.

  
Logan grinned, not sensing the growing tension between Strider and Boromir.

  
“Yeah. Nothin’ but bullshit if you ask me,” Logan said, thinking he was agreeing with Boromir’s point of view that the Ring had no power, not knowing he was thinking the exact opposite.

  
“Boromir,” Strider said sternly and Scott noticed his hand had moved to his sword handle. Scott was beginning to wonder if Strider trusted anyone in the fellowship save Frodo, Sam, Gandalf and Legolas. “Give the Ring back to Frodo,” he commanded.

  
“He’s worse than you with the orders, Scooter,” Logan said dryly, something in him wanting to defend Boromir as he thought they both found it utterly ridiculous to risk everything for a Ring.

  
“He’s a King so he’s excused,” Rogue said softly to her husband and kissed his cheek, knowing the signs of his growing anger and wishing to cool it.  
  
“Of course,” Boromir replied to Strider’s command. He walked to Frodo and handed him the Ring. “I care not.” As he said the words, all knew he didn’t mean them. He cared. A lot. Maybe too much. The Ring could be his last hope. The last hope for his people. And he could be helping to destroy that one last hope with the Ring and it was plaguing him endlessly to think like that but he couldn’t help it.

  
Boromir forced a smile before he turned his back to Frodo and Strider and began walking again.  
Seeing that everything was all right again Gandalf began to lead them further up, though the mood within the fellowship had suddenly become grimmer.

Boromir stood still and waited for Logan and Rogue to reach him before he began walking again, following Strider and Gandalf’s lead onward.

  
“Thank you, Logan,” he said sincerely and Logan sensed his thanks and respect was hard won but when given it would last forever. Logan smiled at the other man, having liked his directness from the beginning since he hated people who would try and hide their true motives. There was no doubt in Logan’s mind now that Boromir was having doubts about the Ring and their mission, what doubts he wasn’t sure about, but he took any hint of a man questioning authority as a good thing and a show of character. That didn’t mean he trusted the man, Logan trusted very few people, but he was beginning not to dislike him.  
  


“No problem. I understand. Hell, I'm not even sure what the fuck we’re doing here myself. For all I care we should go back,” Logan admitted and pressed Rogue close to him. It was getting colder by the minute and if Strider was right then this mission would sooner than later prove dangerous. He didn’t care for either of those things as his healing factor protected him from most dangers but his prime concern was his wife. Nothing was worth risking her life for. Nothing!

  
“I am not saying we shall go back. I respect Lord Elrond and his decision and will follow it but if the Ring was given to my people - it could help us drive the Orcs from our lands,” Boromir explained and a pained look was in his eyes at the thought of the pain his countrymen were in.  
  


“I’m sorry for your pain, prince,” Rogue said softly, her voice sympathetic even though she wasn’t sure if she believed the Ring had such power. However there was no doubt that Boromir’s pain was very real and she laid a gloved hand on his arm in comfort. He smiled at her and nodded his thanks.

  
“Thank you, my lady. Your husband is lucky to have a beautiful and kind-hearted woman such as you by his side,” Boromir said softly, a hint of longing in his eyes and Rogue blushed prettily.  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled shyly.

  
“And I am no prince. I am the son of the Steward of Gondor,” Boromir corrected her.

  
“Steward…kinda like the President’s son, if sons inherited the rule after their fathers,” Logan figured out.

“Well, it seemed to work for the Bush family,” Scott broke into the conversation with, his annoyance at this fact still evident as Scott were one of the mansion’s most open mouthed Democratic voters. Warren, a beautiful blond haired and blue-eyed man whose mutation was white wings which had earned him the nickname Angel, was a man born to amazing riches and who, in his young age, owned many successful companies. Scott and he had therefore had very different backgrounds and also had very different political views. Seeing Warren and Scott argue politics was like watching a mental duel yet despite this they were long time friends, a fact which probably more than most things impersonated Xavier’s dream of peace, tolerance and coexistence.

Rogue laughed at Scott’s comment, reminded of home by his words, as Scott respectfully withdrew from the conversation again and Boromir smiled politely though he didn’t understand the word 'president' or the significance of the names Scott had mentioned.

  
“The markings on your shield...what do they mean?” Rogue asked, for the first time really noticing the strange letters on Boromir's shield. Earlier, they had been too far away to see the  
details of the shield that the warrior carried on his back.

“They look Arabic, with 3 stars above,” Logan said as he himself studied the strange markings on Boromir's shield.

  
“It's the Steward’s Seal. The letters are Elfish and is spoken *Arandur*. It is an Elfish title and it means 'King's Servant' or in the common tongue; steward," Boromir explained.

  
“Do all your names bear a meaning?” Rogue asked interested.

  
“All Elfish words do. Prince Legolas means Prince 'Green Leaf'...”

  
“It fits him,” Logan bummed as he saw the Elf walk with ease through the landscape in his greenish attire as if one with nature itself.

  
“...Lord Elrond’s name translates into 'Vault of Stars', Aragorn translates rudely into King or Lord while Aragorn’s beloved, the lady Arwen means 'Noble Maiden',” Boromir finished.

  
“So all Elves bear names which has a meaning and fits their personality,” Scott said, having  
heard Boromir’s explanation.

  
“Yes. I am not sure how they do this but some Elves can see the future and this gift may be how they can know which name will fit a newly born Elven baby,” Boromir explained.

  
“Does your name have a meaning?” Rogue asked.

  
“Yes. Boromir translates into 'Faithful Jewel'.”

  
“I’m sure you’ll live up to your name then,” Rogue said kindly and meant it. He sure seemed faithful and dedicated to his country.

  
“I hope so… I hope so,” Boromir said and got a haunted look in his eyes and walked a bit faster, efficiently ending their conversation. He knew that to his father being faithful would demand he brought the Ring to Gondor, an order, a cause of action, he was struggling against as it went against the vow he had given to Frodo and the Fellowship in Rivendell.  
  
* * *  
Soon the weather became really bad and by now, the snow was knee-deep. The Hobbits were barefooted so Boromir carried Merry and Pippin, his shield tied to his back while Strider carried Frodo and Sam, pressing them close to his body to try and give them more warmth. Further down the line Logan had put his own cape over Rogue to try and keep her warm.

  
“Ororo, can’t you do something about this weather? Just make it a bit milder,” Scott asked and pulled his cape closer around himself, trying hard not to think about how cold he was but the effect meant he kept coming back to it.

Ororo flew beside Legolas. Unlike the others Legolas was able to walk on the snow and not sink through it. Legolas had explained it was because Elves weighed so little so the snow  
didn’t give beneath him. Ororo was also able to stay above the snow though her constant flying was beginning to take its toll on her. Legolas and Ororo didn’t feel the cold as the others did; Ororo never froze thanks to her mutant powers and Legolas was an Elf so the weather didn’t bother him. Logan on the other hand could feel the cold but his healing factor prevented  
it from doing him any harm.

  
“I’m holding off the worst but something about this weather is unnatural and I can only command natural phenomena,” Ororo explained, having to yell to be heard through the loud wind and blowing snow.

Scott nodded grimly, having already suspected something wasn’t right since the weather could be against them to this extreme. “I know.”

  
“Sauron must be trying to slow us down,” Gandalf yelled loudly to be heard by them all over the loud wind.

  
“I hear a voice in the wind. Whispering,” Legolas said and tried to hear the words more clearly. “It is neither human nor Elvish,” he told them.

Logan tried to hear the voice but could not and thought that the voice had to be either magical so only a magical creature would be able to hear it or the frequency of the voice was such that only Elves could hear it.

  
Suddenly the wind got colder and stronger and pieces of the mountaintop started to roll down towards them, momentarily freezing them all in terror.

  
“I can stop it. I **must** stop it!” Ororo said determined to herself and flew up towards the  
strange dark clouds and her eyes turned white as she called on her control over the weather to help her friends avoid the deadly pieces of snow and rock. She let a wind take as much of the falling snow and rock pieces away from the mountain as she could but some pieces were  
still falling towards the fellowship. Scott considered shooting the snow with his eye beams but his beam was too imprecise without his visor for him to dare try, afraid he might hit the mountain and make things worse.

  
“Seek cover,” Strider yelled and they all pressed as close to the mountainside as they could.

  
“It’s Saruman. He’s trying to bring down the mountain,” Gandalf yelled as the big snow pieces fell down in front of them.

Strider and Boromir turned their backs to the falling snow and again used their bodies to protect the Hobbits. Logan pressed Rogue close to the mountainside, his arms around her and his back to the falling snow.

  
“Ororo! Come back down. This is not natural weather. Come down!” Scott yelled panicked to his friend over the howling of the wind.

  
“Ororo!” Legolas yelled and ran out in the open as soon as the snow pieces had passed them.  
“Legolas! Don’t! It’s not safe!” Strider yelled after his friend, his concern for his friend evident in his voice.

  
Scott couldn’t see Ororo anywhere due to the dark clouds and heavy snowfall. “Legolas! Can you see her?” Scott yelled, afraid she had been hurt.

  
“Yes. I see her. She has called lightning to her,” Legolas yelled back, concern heavy in his voice as he looked to the sky, his eagle sharp vision enabling him to see what Scott could not, especially not in such bad weather and with his red vision as an extra handicap. “She’s… she’s starting to fall. She’s falling!” he ran towards her as she fell with great speed toward the snow.  
Scott tried to see but now he couldn’t even see Legolas anymore as he blended into the snow howling past them with great speed and intensity.

  
As Ororo came down Legolas caught her in his arms and held her close. Her eyes were closed and she was limp in his arms. With his heart in his throat he searched for a pulse on her right wrist...and found one. Relieved he drew a deep breath.

  
“Legolas! Did you find her? Is she alright?” Scott asked concerned, having to raise his voice to be heard not only over the wind but also over Gandalf’s attempts at blocking Saruman’s attack and turn the weather, using magic to do so. The X-men now knew that magic in this world was real, Gandalf’s use of it now was proof but all were too concerned for Ororo to consider the implications of that realisation.

  
“I found her. She is alive but exhausted. I will carry her until she is better,” Legolas said determined but concerned and came into view, Ororo in his arms. All the X-men drew relieved sighs and Rogue hugged Logan close in joy and relief when they saw their friend would be all right.

  
“Gandalf, we have to go back. We cannot cross by going over the mountain,” Strider yelled, holding Sam and Frodo close to him to protect them against the biting wind.

  
Gandalf considered his words. Saruman had been his mentor before he had joined with Sauron. He was much stronger than himself. Gandalf couldn’t beat him; not like this at least. But the only other way was the tunnels the Dwarfs had made and in them there was rumoured to live a fire being called the Shadow that would kill everyone it encountered.

  
“We cannot go on,” Boromir agreed. “It would be the death of the Hobbits!” he added worriedly and tightened his grip on Merry and Pippin.

  
“Going on is suicide! “ Logan yelled, not seeing why the question even needed debate; they had to go back and find another way.

  
“Let the Ringbearer decide,” Gandalf said and hoped Frodo knew which way would prove the least dangerous.

  
“Frodo, which way?” Strider asked softly.

Frodo looked from one to another. Up until now he had never left his homeland, the Shire. He did not know which way was the least dangerous but he knew this mountain was killing them.

  
“The tunnels,” he decided.

Gandalf drew a deep breath, not sure if this would prove less dangerous but trusting Frodo’s insight. “Then the tunnels it is.”  
  


“About time! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to form a council to decide that,” Logan complained as the fellowship began to go back the way they had come, Legolas still carrying Ororo in his arms.

  
“Shall I carry her some of the way? Or Logan can. His mutation will mean it is no strain to him,” Scott offered, seeing Logan’s intention to make this offer himself in his eyes. However looking at Legolas he was sure the young Elf was stronger than his slim build would suggest.

  
“No,” Legolas said strongly but then added more softly, almost with a caring tone of voice as he looked down at the woman in his arms, “No, I have her.” As he had spoken he tightened his grip on her to keep her close in a protective embrace. He drew as much of his cape around her as he could in a protective gesture to keep her warm though he logically knew she did not need it.

  
*I have her,* Legolas whispered softly in his native tongue and his eyes and voice filled with warmth. The longer she stayed beside him, the more days passed, the stronger did he feel the connection between their souls and the harder it was for him to deny this attraction.

  
“I hope the tunnels are better than this,” Rogue said, trying not to shiver from the cold which was worse now than on the way up as Ororo was no longer able to hold some of it back. Logan pulled her close to him and kissed the top of her head, unable to do much more than what he had already done. He had given her as much of his clothes as she had been willing to accept and now all he could do was hold her close and try and offer her whatever words and touches of support and encouragement that he could.

  
“With our luck...I wouldn’t count on it,” Scott mumbled grimly, low enough that only Logan and Legolas’ enhanced hearing would be able to pick it up.  
  



	4. Book 1: Chapter 4: The doors of Durin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The followship reaches the doors of Durin

### Chapter 4: The doors of Durin  
  


After several days they reached the foot of the mountain. By now especially Logan was getting very irritated at the whole situation and Rogue really missed the wonders of her time...like real food and a warm bed. Logan liked the wild and so did Ororo, but Scott was with Rogue, although he would never admit that he actually missed the comforts of home...at least not while they still had a mission to complete. It would be bad for moral.

  
“Are we there yet?” Rogue asked in Logan’s arms. They had walked at least 10 hours a day, every day, so she was now very exhausted. Logan had noticed her struggle and had simply ignored her protests and carried her some of the way, his mutation and natural strength making her frail body a light weight in his arms.  
  
“We are there,” Gandalf announced as he stopped in front of the mountainside. Logan was about to complain that it was just the bare side of the mountain; nothing to get all excited about when the moonlight shone on the rough stone and some gold written letters appeared on the mountain wall, forming a door. “This is the entrance to the tunnels,” Gandalf explained to the intrigued X-men.  
  
”Put me down,” Rogue asked, the news of finally having reached their goal having blown new energy and life into her. Logan did so but kept an arm around her waist as they both looked at the seemly magical writing.

“What does it say?” Ororo asked as she saw the beautiful symbols on the wall.  
  
“It is an old form of Elfish. It says ‘The doors of Durin, Lord Of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter’,” Legolas translated and also came to look at the door. Merry, Pippin, Boromir, Sam, Logan and Rogue didn’t bother to go look at the door but exhausted sat down on some rocks beside it.  
  
“It must be a riddle,” Scott said thoughtfully.  
  
“Gee, you think?” Logan mumbled sarcastically from his place beside Rogue. Scott ignored him but a small smile played over his lips at Logan’s sarcastic form of humour which despite the weather and the constant danger still brought some amusement to the group…well, at least to the X-men as the others in general did not understand it.  
  
“But what is the answer?” Frodo asked puzzled and those gathered in front of the door considered this.  
  
Merry and Pippin, more than a bit bored by now, started to test who could throw rocks the furthest into the lake that lay just outside the entrance. Boromir tried to see the end of the lake but in the darkness the lake seemed to go on into the unknown.  
  
“Don’t disturb the water,” Strider warned and caught Merry’s hand as he was about to throw another stone. He had lived in the wild for years and knew there could be evil lying waiting everywhere. When Merry disappointed let the small stone drop to the ground Strider released his grip on the Hobbit and went to let his horse go as it wouldn’t be able to go with him inside the tunnels, and he knew it would find its way back to Rivendell. He saw Gandalf in vain try one spell after another on the door and by now everyone had sat down on the nearby stones. He walked to sit beside Frodo and Sam, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice should anything attempt to harm the Hobbit he had vowed to protect.  
  
“This trip is no fun,” Pippin complained and sat down with Merry beside Boromir. The steward’s son smiled fondly as his small friends. What he wouldn’t give to just once in his life to have such an easy and unconcerned look at life and not be worried with matters of state and burdens heavier than the stone he was sitting on.  
  
“I’ve got it. It’s a riddle,” Scott suddenly said and all looked at him. “Don’t you see? Speak friend and enter. It’s obvious. Legolas, what is the Elfish word for friend?”  
  
“Of course,” Strider said. Scott was right; it really was obvious. *Friend,* Strider said in Elfish and the gates opened. As they did so the remaining members of the fellowship got to their feet.  
  
“We were just beginning to enjoy the nice view and great chairs out here,” Logan teased and Rogue laughed as they walked through the gates, hoping the tunnels would prove less cold than the mountain had. Gandalf took up some kind of stone and placed it on his walking stick and the stone lit up like a torch.  
  
“Clever. You must save a lot on all your electricity bills,” Logan said and Scott grinned though his mood soon sobered again as he saw Boromir had drawn his sword and shield, Strider had his sword ready and Legolas was ready to place an arrow on his bow. He frowned as he realized that once again the others knew something they had not shared with him. His right hand went to his glasses as he looked around in the darkness. He noticed that it looked like they had entered an underground palace and now stood in the entrance hall. His red vision again put him at a disadvantage, making it much harder for him to see in the darkness so he tried to stay close to Gandalf who walked in the lead and lit the way for them.  
  
“Ugh!” Rogue yelled surprised as she tripped over something and fell into Logan’s arms.  
  
“You alright, darlin’?” He asked concerned as he caught her, holding her close and scanning her face to be sure she was unharmed, his enhanced eyesight making the poor lighting of no concern to him.  
  
“Yes. I just fell over something on the floor,” Rogue reassured him, trying to get her heart rate and breathing back under control after her scare. Logan looked to the floor and the sight that meant him made him hug Rogue close to him, not wishing her to see what his enhanced eyesight had revealed.  
  
“By the Goddess!” Ororo exclaimed as she saw what Gandalf’s light revealed. The floor in the big hall was covered with bodies. Dwarfs’ bodies. Rogue pressed close to Logan as she realized it had been a body she had tripped over.  
  
“NO!” Gimli cried and searched the bodies for a face he hoped not to find; his cousin.  
  
“This is not a tunnel. It’s a tomb!” Boromir exclaimed with dread and held Merry and Pippin back so they couldn’t see the bodies that Gandalf’s light revealed.  
  
“Let’s get out of here!” Logan yelled and everyone turned around and began to move out of the tunnels, this time making Logan, Rogue and the hobbits in the lead as they had entered last.  
  
“I hear something draw closer,” Legolas warned as they ran out. Logan heard the noise as well but saw no alternative but continue out of the tunnels and toward the sound. The others were all too shocked at seeing so much death to pay Legolas much attention until something in the lake before them started to move. Out of the lake a giant octopus-like creature appeared and with its tentacles reached for the nearest person, which was Frodo.  
  
“Help! Strider!” Frodo called frightened as the creature pulled him up by one leg and dragged him towards its giant mouth. Faster than the human eye could see Legolas had placed an arrow on his bow and fired at the creature.  
  
“Ororo, fly up and hit it with some lighting. Rogue, stand back but remain ready with your sword. Logan, try to cut the other tentacles,” Scott ordered and fired his eye beams at the creature as well as he could without his visor, having to take great care with his aim so he didn’t accidentally hit Frodo. Though they all had their Elven swords they had no practice with them and using their mutant powers would give much better results for everyone but Rogue, who did need the extra protection a weapon would bring.  
  
“Attack!” Strider yelled and ran out into the water and began to cut away at the giant tentacle that held Frodo. Boromir drew his sword and ran after him and cut the tentacles that tried to reach Strider.  
  
“Frodo!” Sam yelled and drew his sword and hit away at the tentacles that tried to reach those who were still on shore. Merry and Pippin did the same and Logan literally had his hands full with trying to cut all the incoming tentacles with his claws though Gimli and his axe did a great job as well.  
  
“There must be millions of arms,” Rogue said in despair and wished she could do something to help but knew how dangerous it could be if she absorbed the creature. She had drawn her sword and cut away at any incoming tentacles as best as her poor experience with swords permitted but had to be careful to make sure the creatures arms never touched her skin. Logan stood before her and he fought hard to try and prevent as many arms from reaching toward her as possible.  
  
Strider succeeded in cutting Frodo loose as Ororo’s lighting was either distracting or hurting the creature and Boromir caught the young Hobbit in his arms and ran with him toward the gates.  
  
“To the tunnels!” Gandalf yelled and they all ran towards the gates, the creature right behind them.  
  
“Ororo. Fly inside to safety,” Legolas yelled concerned to her and fired his bow as fast as he could to keep the tentacles from reaching Ororo. Ororo flew toward the gates and landed beside Legolas and they ran inside together.  
  
“Merry and Pippin, get to safety!” Boromir yelled and the Hobbits ran through the gates.  
  
“It follows us still,” Legolas warned as he turned to look. They all ran further into the tunnels and the creature tried to follow but was too big for the gate. Its attempts to get inside made the gate fall down upon the creature, sealing the fellowship inside.  
  
“This should answer the question about whether or not to go through the mountain,” Scott said, drawing deep breaths, trying to get the sudden boost of adrenaline the battle had given him to fade again. He’d rather face Magneto any day than giant sea creatures and evil birds.  
  
“We go this way and let us hope our presence here can go unnoticed,” Gandalf said and lead them on, making Scott worry that there were even more evils hidden within this mountain which Gandalf had not told him about; maybe hadn’t told anyone about.  
  
“I have a feeling this won’t be an easy way to travel,” Legolas warned and as they walked deeper into darkness they all stayed on guard, their weapons at the ready.  
  



	5. Book 1: Chapter 5: They Have A Cave Troll!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men find out what a cave troll is.

### Chapter 5: They Have A Cave Troll!

“Are you sure you know where we are?” Logan asked Gandalf as they walked through giant halls, Dwarf bodies lying in the corners. Gandalf had had to stop three times already to remember which way they were going.

“We are on the right path,” Gandalf let him know from where he walked in front of Logan and Rogue. Cold as it sounded they had all gotten used to seeing bodies by now though Rogue still tired not to look at them unless she had to. The worst however was more the stench of the slowly decaying bodies in the contained space of the halls and mines in the mountain than the sight of them.

“Yeah. Right,” Logan mumbled, clearly not at all certain of this. He could see that everyone else, even Strider who since being introduced to them as royalty sounded as if he held the highest status, was more than willing to obey Gandalf’s orders. Of them only Boromir seemed a bit hesitant to ask ‘how high?’ as soon as Gandalf said ‘jump’ but even he seemed to follow the wizard’s lead. This fact made Logan wonder if the others knew more about Gandalf than they let on and if so if this secret should be cause for alarm.

“We have walked almost three days now and in each hall we have found bodies. What kind of creature can do something like this?” Scott asked everyone, dismay and worry in his voice.

“Goblins,” Gimli said hatefully. If he as much as sensed a Goblin it was dead on sight. Though the X-men were slowly getting used to the magic and fantasy creatures of Middle Earth they were still surprised every time they found one more thing which on Earth would have been impossible but was quite normal here.

“That room over there...” Ororo pointed towards a room on her right, the wooden doors looked like they had been broken up by force. “There are more bodies there,” she noticed and shivered. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of pain and fear the Dwarfs must have felt as whatever was after them drew nearer. Legolas noticed her shiver and took her hand briefly for comfort before he let go again, needing both hands to control his bow if the enemy was near.

“It is my cousin’s room. The main room,” Gimli said, fear for his cousin in his voice as he ran into the room. By now they all knew it was a desperate hope that Gimli’s council could still be alive when they had found only bodies so far; not even a single wounded Dwarf had they passed as they had moved further into the mountain. However fear, love and pain made Gimli cling to the thin thread of hope.

“Don’t!” Gandalf warned but too late. The others ran after him and saw Gimli kneeling before a coffin carved in stone in the middle of the room. From the waste amount of bodies in here it was clear this had been the last stand for the Dwarfs.

“No! No,” Gimli let his head fall to hide the sorrow in his eyes. Gandalf walked over and read the inscription on the coffin. It was Gimli’s cousin’s grave; the Lord of Moria. Everyone stood back and was unsure what to say for what words can heal a broken heart? Boromir went forth and put a comforting hand on Gimli’s shoulder to offer what little support he could.

“We should move on. We cannot linger,” Legolas said to Strider and he nodded. Gandalf picked up an old book from the floor and read the last words the Dwarfs had written. It talked of their fear but not of what was after them.

“I hear something. It draws closer,” Legolas warned and drew his bow, turning towards the open wooden door.

“I hear nothing,” Scott admitted and tried to listen. Still nothing.

“No, he’s right. Something is coming,” Logan warned and unsheathed his claws and pushed Rogue behind him. Boromir stood the closest to the door to the room and ran over to see if he could see something. Suddenly two arrows flew towards him and only his quick reflexes after years in battle saved him as he jerked his head back and narrowly avoided being hit. He turned back to the others and nodded with his head toward the hall outside the room.

“They have a cave troll!” he told them, disbelief in his voice. Legolas took some spears and wood from the hall and helped Boromir seal the gate with them as best as they could.

“And that would be a bad thing, right?” Rogue guessed worriedly and from the look everyone gave her she figured it was not just bad; it was really bad.

“Frodo. Your sword!” Sam said to his friend and all looked at it. It was glowing blue.

“What does that mean?” Scott asked alarmed, his right hand going to his glasses as he faced the door, mentally trying to prepare to meet whatever would be facing them.

“Orcs are close by,” Strider told him and took forth a bow and arrows that Scott hadn’t noticed he had carried with him.

Gimli jumped up on the stone coffin and stood with his axe ready. “Let them come. There’s still one Dwarf left in Moira who draws breath,” he said determined, filled with thoughts of revenge.

Strider, Boromir, Legolas, Ororo, Logan and Scott stood in front. Boromir held his sword ready and his shield was raised, Legolas and Strider had their bows ready, Ororo’s eyes had turned white, Logan had his claws out and Scott was ready to lift his glasses and unleash his powers.

“Stay behind me,” Gandalf said to the Hobbits who had drawn their swords and looked nervously around. Rogue stayed behind Logan, her own sword drawn; once again furiously wishing she either had an active mutant power or that there had been time for her to learn sword practice but time had been of the essence since they had arrived here.

Suddenly they could all hear their enemies as the ground began to shake.

“It sounds like a whole God damn army!” Logan said what they all thought. The Orcs were now literally knocking on the door. With axes and swords they began to break through the wooden door. Legolas let an arrow fly and it hit its mark as always just through the little split in the wooden door one of the Orcs had made with his axe. Legolas found a new arrow and again hit another Orc through the hole in the door. Strider fired several shots to the door and also his aim was deadly. As the door broke they could all see the enemy they were facing as Orcs entered the room, swords at the ready. Strider and Legolas kept firing arrows at them and the first line fell but the Orcs kept coming.

“They’re horrible!” Rogue said repulsed as she saw what an Orc looked like. It was like something from a nightmare, a demonlike creature with eyes shining with bloodlust. She now fully understood the horror it would be to be forced to absorb an Orc but she would do so if it were all she could do to save a friend or loved one.

“Here they come,” Scott warned and began to fire his beams at the Orcs. His beams weren’t as strong as they used to be as his power came from the sun and he had been underground for three days now but he was able to blast two Orcs with one beam. Legolas shot several Orcs in under a minute; his hands finding a new arrow so fast no human eye could see it. Strider put his bow away and took forth his sword and with Boromir charged directly into the enemy. Ororo concentrated and tried to shoot lighting at the Orcs but found it a lot harder than usual. In fact she could almost not shoot lighting at all. What lighting came from her hands was too weak to slay even one Orc. Her power was control over the weather but underground she had no weather to manipulate and not enough moisture to make it rain.

“Ororo, are you in peril?” Legolas asked worried, having to stick one of his arrows directly into the neck of one of the Orcs, as he didn’t have time to use his bow. Ororo drew her sword but found it very heavy despite its slim Elven design and difficult to handle, as she had never fought with swords in her life.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him though she just narrowly missed being slain by an Orc and only Boromir’s sword saved her.

“Ororo, protect the Hobbits,” Scott ordered and she saw that Gandalf was having trouble with the Orcs so even Merry, Pippin and Sam had to stand before Frodo to fight them off.

“I’ll do what I can,” Ororo promised. Suddenly the door was broken down as a giant troll entered.

“The cave troll,” Scott said out loud and it was indeed a giant troll...and it even had a stone hammer with it. It seemed to be searching for something or someone...

“It’s after Frodo!” Scott warned. He had to stop it now before someone was killed. He took a deep breath and fired his beams as strong as he could. He succeeded in blasting the stone hammer but the troll was only weakened. The power of the blast was too much for Scott and against his will he felt himself loosen hold on consciousness and he fell to the stone floor.

“I will stand before him,” Boromir said and positioned himself in front of the unconscious man and fought the Orcs who saw an easy prey.

“I will try and slow down the troll,” Legolas said and jumped up on the troll’s head and began to shot arrows into its head while trying not to fall down. The troll had moved toward Frodo and thrown his protectors away like flies. Logan attacked the troll’s leg as Rogue guided Frodo behind a statue, keeping her sword ready and standing protectively before him, worryingly watching her husband’s attack on the troll.

“Ororo!” Legolas yelled as Ororo was thrown to the side and slid lifeless to the floor as she had positioned herself between Frodo’s hiding place and the troll.

“Strider!” Frodo called panicked and Strider stood before the statue, apart from Rogue Frodo’s last defence. Legolas jumped to the floor again and kept shooting arrows at the troll and it was finally beginning to weaken. Rogue pushed Frodo further behind her and removed her glove on her left hand, holding her sword with her right. She was scared of the possibility that she might had to absorb the troll but if there was no other way to protect Frodo and the Ring so be it.

Strider was cast aside like the others and Rogue worriedly followed him with her eyes. He landed on the floor, stunned and shaken but otherwise he seemed all right. However now only she stood before Frodo. She tried to contain her fear but it rose in her anyway. Doubts filled her mind; was Frodo worth it? Would she die from absorbing the troll? Would the evil and madness that was most likely the essence of the troll take her over? Would such an affect fade? Was this even her fight? She looked at Frodo and saw how scared he looked…and how much he looked like a child. Her mutation prevented her from having children but she had always wanted kids of her own. As she turned back to the troll, her doubts were gone; she would stand firm. She knew that if not even a skilled swordsman like Strider could do the troll any harm with a sword then she certainly couldn’t. Her only hope was her mutation. Just as the troll were inches from her, it fell under Legolas’s attack though Logan’s claws had done a good job as well, almost cutting one of the troll’s feet off.

Rogue and Frodo drew relieved breaths as the troll fell to the floor and Legolas shot it several more times to be sure it was really dead. She looked left and right to be sure the coast was clear before she emerged from the statue with Frodo and saw the remaining Orcs ran away. She quickly put her glove back on and sheathed her sword.

“Thank God!” Rogue said relieved and ran into Logan’s arms as his blooded claws slid back into his flesh and he held her close as she buried her face by his shoulder, the shock of what could have happened, what had almost happened, catching up with her and she fought to get her breathing and heart rate under control.

“Ororo!” Legolas said worried and ran to her as she slowly came around. He helped her sit up, scanning her for any signs of injuries. Frodo ran to sit with Sam and the two friends embraced, happy to be alive.

“Will the others be alright?” Rogue asked, as she felt somewhat more composed. She remained within Logan’s arms, drawing a bit back from him but keeping as much body contact with him as possible, needing the support she got from it. As she asked her question Boromir, Scott and Gandalf who had all been knocked unconscious or to the floor during the battle began to come around as did Merry and Pippin.

Logan smiled relieved as he saw that despite bruises and cuts everyone seemed unhurt.

“They will all be fine. They will all be fine,” he promised and hoped it was a promise that could last forever.


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6: The Bridge Of Khazad-dûm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following loses a member

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters at once to cheer you all up during these times.

### Chapter 6: The Bridge Of Khazad-dûm

“I hate this,” Rogue admitted as the fellowship was on the move again. She hadn’t felt safe since they had left Rivendell. Why couldn’t they go back there? The city had held a beauty and peacefulness, a sense of security and comfort she longed for.

Logan squeezed her hand and pulled her close to him. The battle seemed to have divided the fellowship. Logan, Rogue and Scott walked together closely followed by Boromir who was currently listening to exaggerated tales from Merry and Pippin with fond amusement while keeping an eye on their surroundings. Boromir and his Little Ones as he called the two Hobbits had been practically inseparable since they had set out as Boromir had quickly taken the small beings into his heart and they him. Ororo and Legolas walked by themselves, engrossed in conversation when they weren’t absorbed by the task of looking for any hints of danger and then the rest of the fellowship followed.

“Scooter, this is becoming ridiculous not to mention dangerous for Marie. This has been fun and all but it’s getting too serious now. I say we go back to Rivendell,” Logan said lowly to Scott, making sure the others couldn’t hear though if Legolas choose to listen he could probably catch the words even from the few feet’s distance between them.

“And do what, Logan? Lord Elrond told me Rivendell itself was under attack. In fact, that all of Middle Earth was in danger. Wherever we are, we have landed in the middle of a war and we don’t know how to get back. We’ll be in danger no matter where we are,” Scott whispered back, having considered all possibilities himself since he counted his responsibility to his group and their safety as his first priority since their normal mission, to fight for equal rights for all, most notably mutants, had no meaning here.

“How do we know we’re helping the good guys here, Scooter? What if this Ring gets all powerful in that mountain or destroys everything if someone tries to destroy it? For that matter how do we know we’re even going toward a place to destroy it? We could have been tricked into helping them give that Ring even more power…presuming this whole ring thing is actually real,” Logan said, barely able to keep his voice down in his attempt to get his point across.

“I guess we don’t know. We just have to trust them,” Scott admitted, keeping an eye out for any danger and not just Orcs. Once again he wished they had had a telepath with them so that trust would not be an issue. “Besides, they seem okay so far. Caring for each other and worrying about other’s safety…also ours. People wishing world domination and to enslave everyone usually don’t do that,” he added with a small smile.

“Are you telling me you trust everyone in this happy little gathering?” Logan asked disbelieving. Scott might be a boy scout at heart but he was normally neither naive nor stupid…unless one counted his often somewhat unhealthy relationships to the people in his life but professionally he was normally level-headed and logical which was why Logan chose to listen to him in combat moments and even mostly follow his advice for it was usually sound.

“We trust each other and of them…” Scott’s eyes swept over their new companions. “I trust Boromir. He saved my life. The Hobbits are no threat at all. They can barely fight. Ororo trusts Legolas and I trust her judgement.”

“You don’t trust the King?” Rogue asked and her eyes found Strider who walked in the lead in front of them.

“No. He’s a man with a mission. He seems like a good man but a man with a mission who’s also as great a fighter as he is, is also a potential threat,” Scott explained, his eyes on the man. He didn’t dislike Strider as a person; he just wasn’t sure he trusted him.

“He’s a fanatic and so is the old man. They’ll destroy the Ring no matter how many lives have to be lost in the process. If he thinks us a danger he’ll not hesitate to kill us,” Logan said darkly, saying what Scott hadn’t.

“What of the Dwarf?” Rogue asked and looked at Gimli. He seemed savage with his axe and she trusted him the least, though maybe it was only because she knew him the least.

“He’s a great fighter but I’ve yet to decide if I trust him,” Scott admitted. “He’s hard to figure out and that may make him the greatest threat.”

“The old man will be no trouble,” Logan dismissed Gandalf as a threat due to his seemly fragile built and the lack of any real magic from his side during the journey so far.

“I’m not so sure. I think we have yet to see his real strength. He may be the strongest of them all,” Scott mused.

“But what of them? Do they trust us?” Rogue asked and again her eyes swept over the fellowship.

“Boromir trusts us, the Hobbits seem trustful of anyone by nature, Legolas trusts Ororo and therefore us too. Strider I know for sure has his doubts about us and as for Gimli and Gandalf…it’s hard to say,” Scott admitted.

“I hear something,” Legolas suddenly said and all began to watch their surroundings closely, all idle chat dying as people tensed, ready for a fight. Scott’s eyes went to Logan who nodded to indicate he heard something too. They were again walking through what looked like a big palace tunnel and the darkness could hide many things.

“Something draws near. I sense a darkness close by,” Legolas warned and everyone looked nervously around, their weapons drawn. Suddenly the darkness seemed to come alive with dark demonlike beings that all gathered around the group.

“What are they?” Scott wanted to know, eyeing the creatures suspiciously, his hands on his glasses.

“Goblins,” Gimli said hatefully, his axe at the ready. He looked forth to avenge his cousin’s death and see honour be restored to his name but waited for the signal to attack by Gandalf or Strider.

“Aha…well, if anyone has any suggestions don’t hold back now,” Logan said sarcastically as he popped his claws and pushed Rogue behind him. He growled warningly at the nearest Goblins to make them keep their distance.

“They…have stopped,” Ororo said in wonderment as indeed the Goblins had formed a ring around them but they all stopped about 10 meters away from them. Ororo turned to Legolas to ask him why they would stop and saw he had an arrow ready to shoot but what caught her eyes was something else….

“You’re glowing!” Ororo said surprised and indeed Legolas was emitting an out of this world white light and now she noticed that the Goblins stayed further away from him and Gandalf who held the light than any of the others.

“They fear light?” Scott asked as he too had noticed Legolas’ seemly magical light.

“Great with the light show and all, Junior, but how about getting them away?” Logan asked Legolas and lashed out after a little too brave Goblin, cutting it with his claws and it quickly drew back from him.

“Maybe if we…” Boromir began but stopped as a great noise shook the hall.

“What the hell was that?!” Logan demanded to know, getting a little tired of all the bad surprises they had been getting lately. Maybe they should have taken the time for a Middle Earth 101 lesson before leaving Rivendell.

The noise frightened the Goblins who all ran away.

“I don’t think we want to know,” Rogue said softly. Whatever could frighten the Goblins away had to be something even worse and the Goblins had been worse enough since they had gathered they had been the ones to kill all the Dwarfs.

“Look!” Legolas pointed towards the end of the tunnel they had come from where a giant firelike monster was moving toward them.

“Shit. We’re not staying here. Grandpa, get a move on and get us the fuck out of here!” Logan demanded of Gandalf and took Rogue’s gloved hand in his, pushing the group towards the opposite end of the tunnel.

“Follow me. To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!” Gandalf yelled and ran towards the bridge, the others following close behind.

“I suddenly miss Magneto. At least he had a normal ‘I just want to save my people…often by destroying everyone else’ policy,” Scott complained as they ran all they could, knowing the firelike monster had to be close behind by the loud noise that was trying to catch up with them.

“I hate to say this, Cyke, but for once I agree with you,” Logan admitted and played along with Scott’s little joke in an attempt to ease the mood at bit. He felt Rogue was falling behind, her grip on his hand slipping, her breathing loud and fast, and without further ado he quickly turned around and swept her up into his arms and ran all he could with her, holding her close to his chest as she put her arms around his neck, knowing his mutation would make her light weight seem even lighter to him.

Logan could see the bridge and cast a strange look at Gandalf who had chosen this particular moment to stop for sightseeing.

“Move on,” Gandalf urged as Boromir, the Hobbits, Gimli, Legolas, Ororo and Logan with Rogue ran past him.

“Actually we had planned to become permanent residents here. I’ve always wanted my own fire demon in the backyard,” Logan mumbled, annoyed at the old man’s commanding tone. At least Scott’s orders were always reasonable and not statements of the obvious…well, most of the time anyway.

“Gandalf,” Strider stopped beside the wizard and looked concerned at him.

“Go. Lead them on,” Gandalf urged, knowing what he had to do.

“But…” Strider began to protest.

“Go!” Gandalf demanded and pushed the young King onwards. With a last look at the wizard he held close at heart as a dear friend Strider moved along.

“Dead you’re no use to us,” Scott warned as he ran past the old man, having a pretty clear idea what he had in mind.

“I do not plan to die,” the wizard said with a strange smile and there was such deep knowledge in those words and such wisdom in his eyes that for a moment Scott didn’t doubt him for a moment. Then he returned to reality and just nodded at the wizard as he ran past him.

“Good luck,” Scott mumbled to the old man as he ran onto the bridge. He noticed the others weren’t over yet.

“What are you waiting for? A written invitation?” Scott yelled towards them, his concern for his teammates making his voice hard. He reached the group and saw Legolas hold Boromir close to his chest and pull him back.

“Thank you,” Boromir gasped.

“What…?” Scott began confused.

“The bridge is destroyed,” Legolas explained and moved his head a little so Scott could see that indeed a piece of the bridge was missing. However it wasn’t too far to the other side.

“We can jump,” Scott suggested.

“Some of us can. The Little Ones…” Boromir voiced his concern.

“We will jump with them,” Strider decided. A great noise sounded behind them and all turned to see Gandalf trying to keep the fire demon away with his spells. He made a pretty impressive protective light shield around himself as he fought the beast.

“Okay, let’s move,” Scott ordered and Strider cast him a brief annoyed look for daring to give orders.

“I will go first,” Legolas said and so spoken he jumped and landed gracefully on the other side. He quickly turned around and held out his arms to help the next one.

“Ororo, go next. Help her,” Scott demanded of Legolas as he looked from Ororo to Legolas. Ororo nodded in agreement and called on her control over the weather, hoping they were close enough to the surface to get just a bit of help and as she jumped she managed to get a wind to help her so she landed as gracefully as a Goddess in Legolas’ open arms. He held her close for a second or two longer than was necessary before he released her.

They fit so perfectly together, Scott thought briefly of Legolas and Ororo before the noise from Gandalf’s battle brought his thoughts back to the present.

“I’ll go next,” Logan said and held Rogue tight in his arms, ignoring her protests that she wanted to try and jump herself. He held her close, her arms around his neck as he jumped. He landed close to the edge and Ororo and Legolas helped him to safety as he eased Rogue out of his embrace and back on her own two feet.

“Little Ones, come here,” Boromir called and took Merry and Pippin in his embrace and jumped with them. The others helped him as he landed on the other side.

Gimli jumped but his tight small built almost didn’t permit him to make it but Legolas caught hold of his beard and succeeded in getting him safely across. Casting a quick look at Strider Scott could see they would soon have to have a talk about who should lead them. Giving Strider this victory Scott let him be the last to jump as he jumped over with Sam who protested that he only wanted to jump if Frodo was with him. Strider came last with Frodo safe in his embrace.

When everyone was safe they all turned to look at Gandalf who was still having trouble with the fire demon.

“Maybe we…” Scott began, frowning, hoping they could somehow aid Gandalf, not liking to leave any man behind.

“Orcs!” Legolas warned and quicker than the human eye can see he had caught an arrow that had been aimed straight at Ororo’s heart. For a moment she looked stunned at him and the arrow, unable to believe she had come that close to dying. Legolas threw the arrow to the bottomless deep below the bridge and began to fire at the Orcs who began to show up everywhere. Ororo forced herself to get over the shock at what had almost happened and tried to gather her wits and power around her to call on her control over the weather.

“Run. We have to get out of here,” Strider yelled as he too began to fire arrows at the Orcs. In that moment, as he left his best friend for dead to serve a higher cause, as he took over command from Gandalf, knowing he no longer had Gandalf to lead the way for him, Aragorn left Strider behind, becoming the leader he had been born to be, with all the burdens such leadership brought with it.

They all began to move towards the end of the cave and Logan thought he saw a faint light; were they finally through the mountain?

“Got one,” Scott said satisfied as he had succeeded in getting an Orc with his eye beams though it had been hard and the beam was very weak but it had been there; they must be closer to the surface and sunlight. Ororo again tried to call on her powers but found it impossible; the little she had been able to call to her at the bridge had drained her. They weren’t yet close enough to the surface. Logan tried to run as a shield before Rogue, knowing he wouldn’t die if hit because of his quick healing powers. He got to test that theory as an arrow hit him in the shoulder and he quickly pulled it out.

“Logan!” Rogue yelled fearfully.

“I’m alright,” he reassured as he continued to run towards the exit, holding her hand all the way to be sure she was with him. Logan noticed that though they were all under heavy fire from the Orcs’ arrows they seemed to like Legolas as a target which was strange considering he had a bow and arrows and a deadly aim while most of the X-men and the Hobbits were sitting ducks.

“Any particular reason why these guys hate you so much, Blondie, or is it just on general principle?” Logan yelled to him and winced as he saw Scott being hit in the leg. Knowing Scott didn’t have his healing powers; Logan’s own wound was almost healed now, Logan let go of Rogue’s hand and ran to Scott and supported him as they ran on, Rogue supporting Scott on other side.

“Orcs were once Elves. They hate us more than anything else in this world,” Legolas answered as he kept returning fire.

“Gandalf! NO!” Frodo yelled and all turned to look at the wizard. He had succeeded in throwing the fire being into the bottomless pit below the bridge but the being succeeded in grabbing a hold on the wizard’s leg and was pulling him with him down.

“No!” Frodo started to run back into the heavy arrow fire to get to the wizard.

“Frodo!” Boromir called and stopped him, taking him up into his arms and prevented him from running toward his friend.

“Let me go!” Frodo demanded as his eyes were fixed on the wizard. Scott tried to see if his eye beams could reach the being but his powers were still too weakened.

“Continue, you fools,” the wizard yelled at them as the fire being dragged him with him into the bottomless pit and what would surely be the man’s death.

“NOOOO!” Frodo yelled and kicked out after Boromir to get free.

“Be still, Little One. There is nothing you can do,” Boromir whispered but Frodo wouldn’t listen. He didn’t like Boromir nor did he trust him and now he had prevented him from helping his friend.

“There is nothing to be done. Move!” Scott yelled as the Orcs seemed to draw closer.

Aragorn snapped out of his own misery and sorrow and led them towards the exit and indeed…they were out of the mountain but at what price? The fellowship had lost a valued member. Scott wondered if they could go on now.

“Can things get any worse?” Logan whispered softly as he looked around at the devastated faces of the Elf, Aragorn and the Hobbits and Scott considered his question.

“Probably, Logan. Probably,” Scott concluded grimly, his voice soft but loud enough for Logan to hear as he and Rogue helped him sit down and see to his injury.


	7. Book 1: Chapter 7: A Question Of Leadership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The followship and the X-men debate who should be their leader

###  Chapter 7: A Question Of Leadership

The weather was as cold and dark as the mood in the group. Boromir tried to comfort Merry and Pippin while Frodo, Aragorn and Legolas all stood alone. Scott saw tears running down Frodo’s cheeks, Legolas looked very sad and shocked. Ororo stood beside him and wasn’t sure how to comfort him so she just laid her hand on his arm. Sam sat close to Frodo yet let him grieve in peace.

“These lands will soon be covered with Orcs. We have to move,” Aragorn said as he adjusted his weapons.

Scott, Logan and Rogue stood off to one side. They hadn’t known the old man long enough to truly grieve his passing and their hurt was no deeper than any feeling of hurt you get when you hear someone you knew only briefly had died. Letting the others grieve in peace Logan and Rogue had helped Scott remove the arrow from his leg and put a bandage around it. The wound hurt but he could walk on it. The returning daylight had painfully powered his blasts, giving him a giant headache but he could see that Ororo was happy to have her powers back as she flew a few millimetres above the hard mountain ground.

“Legolas, move them out,” Aragorn commanded and Scott knew he turned to Legolas because he knew that as his friend Legolas would obey his command no matter if he agreed with it or not.

“Give them a moment for pity’s sake!” Boromir all but yelled, grief clear in his voice.

 _Well, someone sure wasn’t happy with the King’s leadership_ , Scott mused.

“We have a mission to complete. We will travel to the Golden Wood of Lothlorien,” Aragorn told them as he went to Frodo and guided him towards the others. Legolas had got Gimli to his feet and everyone was standing up, more or less ready to move out.

“And that would be where for all us non natives? A map would be nice right about now,” Scott mumbled, knowing from Aragorn’s body language he wasn’t going to tell him.

“I can’t see why the hell we should continue helping you. Demons and fire beings…We’re way out of our league here,” Logan protested.

“Lord Elrond has entrusted us all with a mission. Will you go back on your word?” Aragorn asked as he walked to stand in front of Logan, anger in his voice. He didn’t trust these strange people one bit and his grief made his anger come to the front of his mind.

“Are you callin’ me a liar?” Logan asked dangerously and his claws appeared on his hands as the two men stood before each other, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Stop it!” Scott demanded and stepped between Logan and Aragorn, looking from one to the other. “This solves nothing.”

Logan drew back and his claws disappeared back into his skin but he stayed alert. “I won’t take orders from a stuck up royal brat,” Logan protested.

“He is Aragorn, son of…” Legolas began to his friend’s defence, shocked by Logan’s words.

“I don’t give a shit if he’s God himself. I don’t take orders…” He cast a quick glance at Scott. “Maybe on occasion from One-Eye here but certainly not from you, Blondie, or from your King.”

“And why is that?” Aragorn demanded to know, frowning and clearly annoyed.

“You’re not my King nor my friend and frankly I don’t like you,” Logan said with all his usual tact.

“Neat, Logan,” Scott complained. They were in a world they did not know; they could not get anywhere without the help of some friendly natives and so far the Fellowship members and the Elves back in Rivendell were the only natives who hadn’t tried to kill them.

“We can’t walk into enemy territory divided. We have to resolve this,” Legolas said, the voice of logic and wisdom.

“Agreed,” Scott and Aragorn said at the same time.

“Look, first of all on the issue of us staying…Logan, we have to stay. We have nowhere else to go and no way to get back to our own world. I know you fear for Rogue’s safety but we have no choice. Besides, we did give Lord Elrond our word…more or less.”

“You are a great asset to this fellowship,” Boromir said and Scott was sure that praise was something he rarely gave but when given he meant it so Scott nodded his thanks.

“So, we stay but who shall lead us?” Rogue asked, looking from Aragorn to Scott, instinctively turning more towards Scott than Aragorn since she had known him the longest and trusted him.

“Gandalf asked me to lead the group,” Aragorn told them.

“Oh, yeah and I always let dead guys decide my future fate for me,” Logan said darkly.

“I would love to teach you some respect as well as some manners, stranger,” Aragorn said angrily, his eyes aglow.

“Will you two stop it?!” Scott all but yelled irritated.

“Let’s vote on this,” Ororo suggested, coming over to stand beside Scott.

“Good idea. All in favour of Aragorn leading us raise your hands,” Scott asked and Legolas and Gimli raised their hands, as did the Hobbits. Boromir seemed doubtful but did raise his hand in Aragorn’s favour and to Scott’s surprise so did Ororo.

“He’s a good man and he needs this. This is his war, his people, his battle, his duty…and his honour,” Ororo whispered to Scott and he smiled and nodded he understood.

“That’ll be 9, with Aragorn, in his favour,” Scott said and turned to Logan with a ‘what can you do?’ shrug.

“No way! If anyone needs to lead why can’t you do it? At least I know you aren’t a total loss,” Logan argued, refusing Aragorn his victory. Scott smiled a little at Logan’s words, knowing this was probably as close to saying he liked Scott’s leadership and his friendship as Logan would ever come.

“Because we are 12 in all. No matter what Aragorn has the majority. He stays as leader,” Scott saw Logan was set to protest again. “That’s final, Logan,” Scott said sternly, cutting off anything else he might have been about to say.

“Oh, all right then but don’t blame me when he gets us all killed,” he said darkly.

“Very well, let us move,” Aragorn demanded and the group began their walk towards Lothlorien.

After two days they reached a wood that Scott suspected was the Golden Wood Aragorn had mentioned.

“Stay close, Little Ones,” Boromir said to Merry and Pippin, drawing his sword. Something about the wood made him uneasy.

“It is said a Elven witch Queen once ruled here. It’s said her spirit has remained,” Gimli warned and his words made everyone stay alert. Before they had come here the X-men would have dismissed the mere thought of a ghost but after meeting Elves, Goblins, Orcs and firelike monsters a ghost sounded as if he could be a rather serious threat.

“I hear something,” Legolas warned too late as suddenly the group was surrounded by Elves.

Ororo stood close to Legolas, ready to use her control over the weather should it prove necessary but Legolas shook his head at her in no. She stayed alert but calmed down a little and as she looked to Scott she saw that while his hands were still on his glasses he too had seen Legolas’ signal and had stepped down a little.

“Damn pointy eared fellows. I didn’t hear them sneak up on us,” Logan complained and popped his claws.

“No human would,” Boromir assured him.

“I am Haldir, protector of these woods. Who are you to dare enter here uninvited?” A beautiful elf with long blond hair asked them with an arrogant air, showing himself the leader of the Elves who had surrounded them.

*Greetings. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. We seek Galadriel, Queen of Lothlorien, * Aragorn said respectfully to him in the Elfish tongue, leaving all but Legolas staring at him as they had no idea what he had just said.

Haldir’s expression softened at once and he gave a small but warm smile at Aragorn, first now noticing the dark man. *She is expecting you, King Aragorn. Follow me,* Haldir said and indicated they should follow him.

“He will take us to the Queen. We are to follow him,” Legolas explained as they began to be lead deeper into the forest.

“Oh, great,” Logan complained, not liking this at all. Even Legolas seemed uneasy and Logan smelled…not fear on him but awfulness…respect. Whatever they were about to come into contact with was huge and powerful.


	8. Book 1: Chapter 8: In The Golden Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship and the X-men reaches the Golden Wood and Scott thinks he sees Jean as Phoenix and wonders if Jean or the Phoenix is also here, on Middle Earth.

### Chapter 8: In The Golden Wood

They had been taken before the Elven Queen and her husband and she had spoken with them in their minds; warning them of unseen danger and urged them to be true to each other and their mission.

Aragorn was raised among and by Elves and held great respect for them. It was in the strength of men, especially himself, he had doubts. The warning the Queen had whispered worried Aragorn. Was it the newcomers who were the threat? He didn’t trust any of them fully but the white haired, unusual coloured woman they called Ororo was so like the Elven people he admitted that it was hard not to like her. The other woman, Rogue, reminded him a little of his own love, Arwen. No, the women didn’t worry him. It was the two men that was the key problem. Scott was a leader but reasonable. Logan, on the other hand, seemed to take great pleasure in being rude, annoying and very dangerous. Aragorn trusted him the least.

“You should rest. We are safe here. No evil can enter the Golden Wood. You will need all your strength when we move on tomorrow,” Aragorn said to Boromir and sat down beside him.

“I will find no rest here,” Boromir said softly, his voice shaky. He had heard her, the Queen, inside his mind. She had told him there was hope still but he couldn’t see it. His city would fall and his people fail. He couldn’t let that happen. They all trusted him, believed in him. He had to do something yet what? The Ring seemed more and more like the only way to save his nation, his people…his beloved baby brother who he had left back in Minas Tirith.

“Why not?”

“The Queen spoke of hope yet I see none. I fear my city shall fall to ruins, its glory forgotten,” Boromir voiced his fears, forgetting he was speaking to the man who claimed to have right of leadership over Gondor instead of himself yet Boromir was a warrior first and a politician second so power meant little to him; only the safety of those he cared for was important to him.

“Surely not. As long as we stay true to each other we still have a chance,” Aragorn said softly, following Boromir’s gaze out over the darkening wood. Even in the darkness the Golden Wood still seemed to sparkle with goodness, peace and beauty beyond words. It was so elfish and reminded Aragorn of his childhood in Rivendell that he had at once felt at home here.

“Have you ever been to the White City? Seen its beauty; its glory? The white spears glowing in the evening sun?” There was real love and passion in his voice as Boromir spoke of his home.

“I have seen it,” Aragorn said softly. He didn’t have Boromir’s strong feelings for Gondor though he did love the land he had been raised in Rivendell and saw that as more of his homeland than Gondor. Because of this, a part of him wondered if the other man, because of his passion and love for his country, would not be a better ruler than himself. Aragorn had never held any wish to rule and that was why he had never claimed the throne though the war seemed to have forced him into a decision.

“One day, our paths will lead us there and the tower guard shall take up the call: The Lords of Gondor have returned,” Boromir told him, a smile and a dreamy look coming over his face.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, feeling more connected than ever before.

“Lord Elrond raised you?” Boromir suddenly asked and Aragorn nodded, taken back by his question though happy for the chance to explain.

“Yes. He is my father in every way but blood.”

  
“As Legolas is your brother?” Boromir asked insightfully and Aragorn nodded.

“He cares deeply for you,” Boromir said, remembering Legolas’ repeated defence of the young King. “For the thousands of years old Elven Prince of Mirkwood to think so highly of you…you must be a great warrior…and friend,” Boromir finally said and Aragorn nodded, accepting the words in the manner they were given; respect and with a new understanding.

“Why did the Steward allow his oldest son to take this dangerous journey?” Aragorn asked him, knowing from Gandalf who had recently been in Gondor that the steward had two sons who were seemly as different as night and day yet who had always held great love between them.

“With my brother I share the ability to receive visions in dreams. I have recently been haunted by dreams of Gondor and my own destruction and I sought answers.” He paused before he added, his voice filled with sorrow and pain, “Even if my dreams had not led me here then I would have left. I have recently lost my wife who had only been mine for one year and only been in my life for two. Short a time it was yet our emotions ran deep and I needed to get away from the memories,” Boromir admitted, his voice clouded with his grief.

“I am sorry. I did not know,” Aragorn said sympathetically. No wonder Boromir was so closed off when he carried around so much pain.

“She was killed in the latest attack Sauron’s forces committed at our lands. I lead the army to victory but it was too late for her. The attack took us by surprise; the lands had been declared relatively safe so she had travelled from the safety of Minas Tirith to see me at Osgiliath where I was visiting my brother who commands that region with his rangers. She had joyful news for me that could not wait till my return to the city she had written in her last letter to me,” Boromir explained, pain and grief written on his face and in his voice and Aragorn’s heart bled when he realized what Boromir must also have known; his wife had most likely been pregnant with his child when she had been killed. Aragorn was painfully reminded of Boromir’s speech at Lord Elrond’s council about how the blood of his people kept the other lands safe. The death of his love was probably one of the main reasons for the strong grief and depth of emotions Aragorn had heard in his voice when he had spoken those words. Aragorn loved Arwen with all his being and always had. He couldn’t imagine what kind of agony it would be to be forced to live without the one you love and he wondered if some of Boromir’s love for Merry and Pippin was because they had become the sons in his heart he would now never have.

“We will avenge her,” Aragorn vowed softly, not knowing how else to offer comfort and Boromir smiled though he fought tears.

“Thank you,” he said ever so softly and Aragorn smiled back.

“Welcome,” he answered, feeling they had created a strong bond here tonight that nothing could break.

* * *

Scott felt very alone in the beautiful and peaceful forest. Logan and Rogue had gone to their tent, Ororo and Legolas were talking together and he was telling her of his teachings and way of life. The Hobbits were sleeping, eating or playing like small children while Gimli had gone to his tent for privacy. Aragorn and Boromir sat off together and seemed in deep conversation.

They had been in Queen Galadriel’s realm for several hours now and Scott had loved it here since he had first seen the land. It was beautiful beyond words; rich with sculptures, statures and carvings in woodwork…everything was so bright, light and elegant…so fitting the Elves.

Scott had been unsure of what to expect of the Queen but when he had seen her all his doubts had been laid to rest, if only for a moment. She was stunning like an angel; kind, soft, gentle and compassionate yet strong and powerful…she was magical. She almost seemed to glow. She hadn’t spoken in words, but like a telepath, within their minds. She had warned him of coming danger, shown images in his mind of the pure horror and evil that was Sauron, and she had told him to believe in a dream; told him to stay true because that was the only way they could win.

Logan, Ororo and Rogue had heard the same as him and while the two women thought she spoke true, Logan had his doubts. He hadn’t liked that he had been unable to smell anything on her; he called her a ghost and didn‘t trust her but, since the people Logan trusted could be counted on one hand, Scott didn‘t let his warning control his own decision though he paid attention to it; Logan‘s instincts were often right. Scott had seen into her eyes and found great power and wisdom there. He was sure she believed in what she had told them but his logical side still had doubts if all this magic was really happening.

He had noticed that Aragorn had made a special greeting to the Queen; taking his folded right hand to his lips, kissed the fist he had formed, taken it to his bow and then putting his hand back by his side and relaxing his hand. Legolas had made a similar greeting to the Queen that Ororo had been able to copy to the letter. What had amazed him had not been the nod of acknowledgement the Queen had given Aragorn and Legolas but the small hand gesture of a greeting and nod of her head that she had given Ororo. The Queen had amazed him further by addressing Ororo by the name given her when she had been worshipped as a Goddess; Beautiful Windrider…and she had said this name in Ororo’s native Swahili. She had said that Ororo was the bridge that would connect and unite the two worlds that were within the Fellowship and that hope would be found within her. Scott still wondered about the deeper meaning of those words but it was clear to him that the Queen was as powerful as she was beautiful and he knew the Fellowship was lucky to have her with them, as she would pose a formidable adversary.

He sighed as the night drew long and he was still without answers. He would have to rest now; they had a long way to travel tomorrow and if their future trip proved to be just half as dangerous as the one they had already travelled they all needed all of their strength. He went to his tent and got ready to rest. Out of habit he searched for Jean only to remember she wasn’t with him. He missed her warmth and her smile. He missed holding her close at night but more than anything he missed her words of encouragement and her advice. He was more or less travelling on faith alone here and he had no one to voice his concerns to. The others looked to him and trusted his judgement; Logan’s defence of him as a leader after they had lost Gandalf bore evidence to the great faith his friends had in him. He prayed he wasn’t betraying that trust in his faith in Aragorn’s abilities to lead them but he saw no other way. He couldn’t lead them. Aragorn wouldn’t allow it and he knew Legolas would stand with his friend. Gimli would take the King’s side as well and so would the Hobbits. Though he might be able to get Boromir on his side and through him Merry and Pippin as well then that would be all. If he had insisted on leading them he would only have succeeded in breaking the Fellowship and the Queen’s words had strengthened him in the belief that they needed the safety of numbers. Besides he didn’t know this land, he wouldn’t know where to go. He didn’t know how to get back home, from Elrond he gathered Rivendell was under attack itself, either now or it would be soon, so that just left travelling to Mt. Doom like they were doing now and for that trip Aragorn was a better choice as leader…just like Ororo had seen.

He turned in his bedroll, trying to find rest, but thoughts of Jean kept him awake. He missed her terribly and more so with each passing day. He didn’t know why she hadn’t come along or for that matter why not all the X-Men had. They all had great powers and would have been a great help on their journey. Especially why Jean was left out, considering they had been standing side by side when he had been torn from his reality and thrown into this one, troubled him. It would be logical to assume people in close proximity would be brought along like Logan and Rogue had and Ororo had been brought over alone since she had not been standing relatively close to anyone at the time the spell or whatever it had been had taken them here.

Jean had been in a strange car accident a few years back and her lack of presence here made him recall this. A meteor had hit her car and she had been taken to the hospital. To everyone’s surprise she had escaped with only a light concussion, but the accident seemed to have enhanced her powers tremendously. Her powers had seemed to grow with each passing day and when she had found she could fly with the help of her strengthened telekinesis she had taken the name of Phoenix. Scott had worried about her though she had claimed she was fine. As a man of logic, he wanted and needed to know the cause of her boost in power as they had grown to be seemingly limitless. Was there no limit to them? Such a thought was unheard of; everything had its limits and its price and it was the price he was afraid of because such great powers had to be paid with an equally great price. And it had. Unable to control her new power Jean had went on a rampage, destroying many lives and turning evil, consumed by her own power. Finally Xavier’s gift of telepathy and his own love had managed to calm her down and Xavier had bound her powers back to their previous size. However Xavier had warned that if they ever lost their love his block on Jean’s powers might lessen or fully disappear. What would his disappearance do to her? Xavier had told him that dark and angry emotions could trigger a setback and could destroy the mental block he had put on her powers.

Though why would someone so powerful be left behind? That thought kept haunting him. She would be a great ally to the Fellowship. Maybe with their magic they could release Jean’s full potential without the danger of her losing control. A dark thought crossed his mind. A power as great as hers would make a great ally…or a great foe. No, he shook his head in denial. Jean would never harm anyone…at least not the Jean he knew. But Phoenix, power hungry and evil, would. No, such thoughts brought him nowhere. Jean was not Phoenix. Facts were that she wasn’t here and so she was no help or threat to the Fellowship in any way.

Thinking of Jean also made him think of who or what had brought them here. After having seen the Queen today and seeing how powerful she was, he thought that maybe she had brought them, though she hadn’t said anything. It would explain her knowledge of them but then, since she had spoken in their minds, Scott figured she was a telepath and as such she could have read everything in their minds without any beforehand knowledge. Another candidate to bringing them here was Lord Elrond but he had seemed genuinely surprised to see them so Scott doubted it unless the Lord of Rivendell was a very good actor and he had a feeling that Elves didn’t lie. Then there was Gandalf but he had seemed as surprised as Lord Elrond but, unlike the Elven Lord, Gandalf was human, or at least seemed to share human traits, and therefore would be quite capable of deceit and lies. He was a possibility though with his death that option didn’t please Scott, as that would mean it would be impossible for them to travel home.

Thinking of going back also made him consider just where they were in the first place. Lord Elrond had called it Middle Earth and Logan had thought they were on another planet, but Scott wasn’t sure of that. There were too many similarities for this to be another planet; no, he was sure Middle-Earth was what he simply called Earth. However, it was obvious this wasn‘t the Earth he knew. He considered two options; either they had time travelled so they were either in the past or the future, and since there were no modern facilities and the race of Elves and others didn’t exist in his time, then the past was the best guess though way, way back in the past. However that didn’t sit well with him because he doubted that even time could totally erase any hints of a world such as this one having ever existed on Earth. The other option was a parallel universe where Earth had evolved differently. The latter seemed almost too surreal, even for him, but he knew that time travel was possible; for starters his own son, Nathan, had the ability to travel in time and had returned to his father when he had been over forty about a year ago while Scott was only 27 and Nathan hadn’t yet been conceived. Fact was that they had been taken here by someone who could either manipulate time or time **and** space but since none of them had the ability they sure hadn’t done it on their own. If one of the Elves, or Gandalf hadn't done it then maybe someone he knew had. Nathan wouldn’t have separated him from Jean nor time travelled him without telling him first…however, the Mother Askani, who had looked after Nathan in the future, had time travelled Jean and him before without telling them or explaining their mission. She was the only other option he could think of besides the Elves and Gandalf, but again she always time travelled him with Jean and she had never time travelled Ororo, Rogue or Logan before. And Mother Askani might have the ability to also bend space as well as time. Scott lay awake trying to think of clues to solve the mystery but had to give up. He knew too little of this new place and the true strength and powers that rested within the Elves and Gandalf because something in him warned him against fully disregarding the old man in all this. Scott knew somehow that he was far more than he seemed though he wasn’t sure what.

Sleep began to claim him and heavy thoughts gave way to the simple longing he bore for Jean. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again and that pained him the most. His thoughts on Jean, he looked to the stars that were visible through the strong Elven tent material. Suddenly he swore he saw a Phoenix shape in the stars and it blinked down to him like diamonds, but when he looked again it was gone.

“Must have been my imagination. It is dark and with my red shades it is hard to see shadows clearly. The poor lighting must have played tricks on me,” Scott decided, but still wondered. As the night drew closer everyone went to bed and Scott dreamt of Jean, a bird made of fire and a Phoenix.

No one noticed the Elven Queen walking through the camp in the middle of the night nor that Frodo was awoken by it and followed her.


	9. Book 1: Chapter 9: Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir is tempted

###  Chapter 9: Temptation

“I can’t tell you how much fun this trip has been; demons, fire monsters and the longest fuckin’ rowing trip in the history of mankind…” Logan began as they had finally come to shore after many hours hard canoeing from the Golden Wood.

“Yes, doesn’t it make you feel lucky to know you got this opportunity?” Scott teased as he dragged his canoe to shore.

At first daylight they had moved out from Lothlorien where the Queen had seen them off. She had given them things to aid them on their way, among others capes which she claimed would make them invisible to Sauron’s crystal ball…or something along those lines. As a man of logic Scott found there was too much magic in this world for him to feel at ease. Lothlorien had seemed very changed in daylight or maybe something had happened during the night that he had missed. At any rate the magical and peaceful feeling he had got from the place the evening they had arrived had disappeared like the morning rain. The place had still looked beautiful beyond words but he had felt there was a power, a hidden danger there he couldn’t explain that made him uneasy. Frodo and Boromir especially seemed changed, as they had moved out. Frodo had seemed burdened, saddened and when Boromir had helped him into the canoe with Aragorn Frodo had all but ran from him.

The Elven Queen had known more than she had let on; Scott was sure of it. What annoyed him was that he feared someone would pay for her, and everyone else they had met in this strange land for that matter, love for riddles. Boromir on the other hand had seemed to have given up any hostility towards the King and they had talked and laughed together as friends when they had made the canoes ready. On their way down the river Legolas had taken Ororo, Aragorn had Frodo and Sam, Boromir had Merry and Pippin, Logan and Rogue had taken a canoe together while Scott had been with Gimli. On their way up the river they had passed two gigantic statues of men holding out hands as in warning. The sight of what were apparently statues of old Kings of Gondor had moved both Aragorn and Boromir. Scott would have loved to find out how they had built those statues; it was an engineering wonder if he had ever seen one and his mathematical mind would love to know more about it, especially considering these people had no machines to help them built such enormous edifices.

“We’ll rest here for a while,” Aragorn said as they had all got to shore and settled down around the riverbank.

“Oh, and now when we were having such fun,” Logan said sarcastically as he sat down with Rogue who giggled at his words, which made him smile. Scott sat down beside them and rested, looking out over the river and the woods.

“I sense a darkness, a shadow. Danger grows near,” Legolas warned Aragorn as they stood side by side on the riverbank. Many of the others had seated themselves down close by, leaning against trees or sitting on fallen trees as they rested to regain their breath from the exhausting rowing.

“No, really? We’re in danger? What a shock!” Logan mumbled mockingly, his irritation over the growing length of the trip, the hard work the canoeing had been, especially since he had insisted Rogue did not strain herself with trying to aid him, and lack of sleep making him have a short fuse. Both man and Elf ignored him.

“I know we have little time. Let me know when you know more about this sensation you feel,” Aragorn requested of his friend and bond brother.

“I will, Estel,” Legolas promised and smiled despite the drawing dangers at his human brother. Aragorn was the most remarkable human he had ever met and his respect for the Elven culture was great. He had known Aragorn since childhood and though he was many thousands of years older than the young human Legolas found wisdom and bravado beyond his years in Aragorn that had earned him his love and respect.

“Thanks,” Aragorn said and smiled back, feeling better and more at ease with himself now. He felt happy for Legolas’ use of his childhood nickname ‘Estel’ or Hope as the Elven name translated into as it brought back a feeling of togetherness and warmth that he needed in this time of darkness.

“Have you seen Boromir? I can’t find him,” Scott suddenly asked, a frown covering his brow. He had rested for a little while when he had decided to ask Boromir something but when he had turned towards the boats where Boromir had been last, pulling them to land, the man had been gone. He had walked around the camp but hadn’t been able to find him anywhere.

Logan looked around trying to spot their friend but remained seated, Rogue sitting beside him and leaning against his side.

“I haven’t seen him since he helped Pippin and Merry to shore. Maybe they know where he is,” Rogue answered his question.

“I just asked them, they say they don’t. However Pippin told me Boromir had talked with them before he…disappeared. He said that Boromir had told him and Merry that they were as his own younger brothers or sons to him and that he cared deeply for them and asked them to remember that no matter what happened,” Scott explained, concern heavy in his voice.

  
”That sounds an awful lot like goodbye to me,” Logan admitted and stood up, helping Rogue to her feet with him.

“Where is Frodo?” Sam asked worried. He had only dozed off for a little while. He prayed his beloved friend was all right. He should have taken better care of him.

“He isn’t here,” Aragorn suddenly realised after having scanned the camp.

“And neither is Boromir,” Scott told them.

Aragorn frowned. “I’ll go look for Frodo. Legolas, stay here and stay alert,” Aragorn ordered.

“Now, this is why I wonder who in their right mind would let a child be a chosen warrior,” Logan mumbled darkly on Frodo’s disappearing act, unable to see the Hobbits as anything but children who needed protection.

“We should try and find Boromir,” Rogue suggested and Logan nodded.

“Ororo, we’ll go look for Boromir,” Scott said and came to her where she sat on a fallen tree, keeping an open eye out for any hint of danger.

“Okay. Be careful,” she said and he nodded before he bent down and softly kissed her cheek, not sure why but having an unexplainable feeling something might happen to her.

“You too, Windrider,” he asked before he disappeared into the woods with Rogue and Logan.

* * *

“Frodo, you shouldn’t wander so far away from camp,” Boromir told him as he gathered wood for a fire. He tried to fight the urge to look toward the Ring that hung around Frodo’s neck in a chain. As time passed his desire to take it had become greater. Why couldn’t anyone see that the Ring could save his Kingdom and set his people free?

“Stay back,” Frodo warned fearfully, not liking the look in Boromir’s eyes as he came closer.

“I see you suffer more and more for each day. This burden is weighting you down. Why go to the mountain? We can easily go to Gondor from here. With the power of the One Ring we could defend my country and get rid of Sauron’s evil forever.”

“Don’t come nearer,” Frodo warned and took a step backwards.

“Why do you recoil? I am no thief,” Boromir said, hurt in his voice. He was the son of the Steward of Gondor and no thief nor villain…he just wanted to protect his people. How could that be bad? He only wished what was right; he just wanted to stop the bloodshed of his people. It wasn’t just his right to protect them; it was his duty.

“You are not yourself,” Frodo warned, seeing the light in Boromir’s eyes fade as if a battle for his soul were racing within him; tearing him to pieces.

“I only ask for the strength to help my people!” Boromir yelled and threw the gathered firewood on the ground as something in him broke; honour, strength, help, need, want, power…it all blended into one as Boromir made a grab for Frodo.

“Don’t!” Fordo yelled frightened as he ran from Boromir but he quickly ran after him.

“You just want to use the Ring for yourself…or give it to Sauron!” Boromir accused, his thoughts getting even darker at this thought of betrayal.

“No, I will not!” Frodo denied as Boromir got hold of him and tried to tear the Ring from Frodo.

“Give me the Ring. It’s mine. It should have been mine!” Boromir demanded just as Frodo succeeded in putting the Ring on and therefore become invisible to Boromir by its power.

“Hmm?” Boromir looked in wonderment as he grabbed only empty air. Suddenly he heard some leaves rush as Frodo ran away. As the Ring moved further away from him its power began to fade and light returned to Boromir’s opal green eyes.

“Frodo...?” he asked confused. What had happened? Where was he? Where was Frodo? Suddenly memory painfully returned to him in full force and Boromir drew a sharp breath as he fought tears yet they fell from his eyes anyway.

“What have I done...?” he mumbled, breaking down and crying into the leaves on the wood floor. He had betrayed everyone; driven Frodo away. He had betrayed his country, his father, his gentle brother, the memory of his deceased wife, his oath, his word and his honour. By all what was holy…what had he done and how could he ever make such a terrible fault right? Was that even possible?


	10. Book 1: Chapter 10: Battles For Life And Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aragorn talk to Frodo and Boromir falls under attack

### Chapter 10: Battles For Life And Healing

“Frodo?”

Aragorn’s voice brought Frodo to a halt. He held the Ring in his hand as he turned around and looked fearfully at the human who he for the first time noticed was much larger and stronger than him. What if the Ring had taken him as it had taken Boromir? The Elven Queen had been right; this task he had to do alone.

“Do not come any closer,” he warned, fear in his voice.

“I would never hurt you. I have sworn to protect you,” Aragorn protested and went to him and knelt before him so they were eye to eye.

“Would you do it? Would you see the Ring destroyed?” Frodo asked softly and opened his hand and showed the Ring to Aragorn; something in him wanting Aragorn to take it so he himself was freed from the burden of carrying it. Carrying the Ring was weighting him down as Boromir had said; it was tearing his soul apart and darkening his mind. He had to carry it but he didn’t wish to.

Aragorn looked briefly at the Ring in Frodo’s hand and was reminded of his ancestor’s failure; it was because of the weak blood in his veins that this threat was even real. He dared not believe he had the strength to do what his ancestor had failed at. Softly he closed Frodo’s fingers around the Ring with his much larger hands.

“I would have followed you into the darkest reaches of Mordor,” Aragorn said softly, tears in his voice.

Frodo nodded, fighting tears of his own, knowing he would be all alone now. “I know,” just as he said it his sword glowed blue; Orcs were near. Aragorn quickly got to his feet and stood protectively before the Hobbit as he drew his sword.

“Run. Leave,” Aragorn ordered as he began to fight the crowd of Orcs racing towards him.

Frodo cast frightened looks after Aragorn as he ran away.

* * *

“Something is not right,” Legolas said softly as he stared out into the woods. He felt a growing darkness, a shadow coming closer. Darkness was near and evil was gaining more power.

“I know. I feel it too,” Ororo agreed as she came to stand before him. Suddenly Legolas seemed to tense.

“Estel!” he whispered pained, closing his eyes briefly and a hand went to find an arrow for his bow.

“What’s wrong?” Ororo asked worried.

“Aragorn is in peril. We must go to him,” Legolas explained, concern and the need for haste clear in his voice.

Ororo nodded, putting a hand on Legolas’s arm. “We will.”

“I will go with you,” Gimli said and Legolas nodded acceptance.

Ororo turned towards the three Hobbits.

“Stay here,” she ordered as she went with Legolas and Gimli deep into the woods in search for Aragorn.

“Frodo is still out there. I’m going after him,” Sam decided, unable to bear the thought of his beloved friend in danger any longer.

“Wait,” Merry called after him but too late; he was already gone and his fast run made him disappear into the forest.

“I have dinner,” Pippin said as he came back into the clearing, holding some berries in his hands only to realize only Merry was left. “Hey, where did everybody go?”

“To look for everyone else,” Merry explained.

  
“Oh.”

“We should go look for someone too,” Merry suggested and Pippin considered this.

  
“Let’s go after Boromir. He may need our help.”

“Let’s go,” Merry agreed.

“We’re gone.”

* * *

“I hear something,” Logan warned as Rogue, Scott and him walked through the forest. Scott looked around, his hands on his glasses.

“From where?” Just as the words were out his mouth hundreds of Orcs came running toward them from every side.

“Pick a side. They’re fuckin’ everywhere,” Logan growled as he eased Rogue behind him and Scott stood beside him so Rogue was in the middle as they tried to protect her. Rogue removed her gloves. She had lost her sword when they had been canoeing and the canoe had tipped them over. However she knew that even with a sword her mutation was her only real defence since she did not know how to use a sword and so she stood ready to absorb an Orc should it prove necessary though she hoped it didn’t. She gained personality and memories of the person she absorbed for a time and she had no wish to share mind with one of the bloodthirsty, crazy Orcs.

As the first wave of Orcs ran toward them Scott lifted his glasses and fired a wide beam; the entire row of attackers fell but was soon replaced by new ones. Scott fired again and again but the wideness of his beams was limited and after the first five waves Orcs began to be able to come close enough for Logan to slice in them with his claws.

“Take this!”

Scott threw Rogue his sword. Rogue barely managed to catch the sword and tried to hold her attackers at bay with it, not wishing to absorb an Orc unless there was no other way. However, her defence was weak and soon she was breathing heavily. Their fast pace had meant that when they made hold she was too exhausted to ask someone to teach her and even the Elven sword which was lighter and more elegant than for example Boromir’s Gondorian sword it still felt heavy in her hands and she found it very hard to handle. Luckily Scott and Logan were able to hold the worst of the Orcs away from her but for how long could that continue?

* * *

“I see him! He is fighting a large number of Orcs,” Ororo called to Legolas and Gimli when she located Aragorn from the air. She landed and guided the Elf and the Dwarf the shot distance to him.

“Are you unhurt?” Legolas asked worried as he was within hearing range of Aragorn and begun to help his human friend kill Orcs, shooting arrows one after the other with lighting speed.

Aragorn nodded at Legolas’ question while he kept blocking blows from Orcs with his sword and swung around and cut an Orc down.

“For the moment,” he replied and sounded out of breath and Ororo could tell from the many dead Orcs lying shattered around the battlefield that he had fought hard. Legolas kept firing arrows at the Orcs and attacked them with his knives or an arrow if they came too close. Gimli’s axe did great work as he cut several Orcs down. Ororo called on her control over the weather and her eyes turned white as she rose to the sky, concentrating on calling lighting down.

“Ororo, are you hurt?” Legolas asked worried and cast a quick concerned look at her before the battle demanded his full attention. He was concerned over the sudden colour change of her eyes; no human he knew could do that for so long and be well. On the other hand she didn’t look like any human he had ever met; she acted and thought like an Elf, her skin was a beautiful forest autumn colour, her hair was like snow and her soul sang to him in a way no other had. She was one of a kind.

“I’m alright,” Ororo answered as she let a lightning bolt appear in her hand before she threw it after the nearest Orcs. It exploded and took several Orcs down. She flew up and out of danger while continuing to shoot lightning after the Orcs.

“*Aragorn!*” the name seemed to be spoken on the wind, fear and worry in it. Ororo turned and saw that Legolas had spoken the name but she could have sworn there were other voices on the wind as well. She turned to look at Aragorn who held his left hand over a wound in his right shoulder, blood running down his sleeve.

“I am unhurt. Nothing serious. You can stop worrying...all of you,” Aragorn let them know as he swiftly changed the sword from his right to his left hand and continued fighting. Ororo’s eyes stayed on Aragorn some time still to be sure his wound really wasn’t serious.

“All of you?!” Ororo mumbled confused as she resumed shooting at the Orcs.

“Elves can create empathic contacts with humans they have healed or bonded with. Aragorn has been healed by his foster father and I while the Lady Arwen have bonded with him. Therefore we will all feel it when he is hurt if he stays within a certain distance of us. Soon Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen will loose contact with him as the distance grows too large,” Legolas explained while his arrows flew and hit an Orc every time. She figured Lord Elrond and his daughter must have been the other voices she had heard say his name with Legolas.

Ororo’s full attention went back to the battle as she still stayed airborne, trying to throw her lightning bolts so to protect Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas. A group of Orcs had sneaked too close for comfort up on Gimli and Ororo threw her lightning bolts at those Orcs, turning to face them. Therefore she didn’t see the group of Orcs who came running behind her, didn’t see them aim their bows at her and didn’t see the arrows fly through the air towards her unprotected back.

“Ororo! Behind you!” Legolas yelled, worry clear in his voice as he aimed at the attacking Orcs, cutting them down one by one with his arrows. Ororo turned around when she heard his warning. In alarm she saw the arrows draw closer. She tried to fly out of the way while shooting lightning bolts to destroy the arrows. She almost succeeded. Of the more than forty arrows that had been aimed at her only two hit her but they hit her in the chest. With a scream of pain and surprise Ororo lost concentration and started to fall toward the ground.

“Legolas, catch her!” Aragorn ordered as he covered Legolas as best as he could when the Elf ran toward Ororo. As she came down he caught her in his arms and held her close.

“We will protect you,” Gimli promised as he with Aragorn positioned himself in front of the fallen woman and the Elf. Legolas nodded his thanks as he gently laid Ororo down on the forest ground. Her eyes had turned back to brown, sweat covered her brow and pain was written in every line of her face. While Aragorn and Gimli fought the attacking Orcs, making a small protecting circle around the couple, Legolas tried to see how serious Ororo’s wound was. Legolas’ face was filled with worry and his heart beat faster in fear for her safety.

Ororo had put her hands around the arrow wound closest to her heart and Legolas carefully lifted them up to see. Blood began to pour out around the edges of the arrow and Legolas lifted her hands back to press at the wound.

“How… bad is it?” Ororo rasped weakly, pain in her voice. Legolas looked at the second wound as well which had hit her a bit below the first one and his eyes were clouded with worry and sorrow as he turned to meet her pain filled gaze.

“You are dying,” his voice was so broken it sounded like it was him who was dying. This was the first time Legolas realized how deeply he had come to care for Ororo; the thought of losing her was at the edge of making him physically ill, like losing the other part of his soul.

“Then…you must leave me.” It pained her to say it; she didn’t want to die and certainly not alone in a strange land but she knew it was the right thing to do. She saw the instantaneous denial in Legolas’ eyes. “All of you. It isn’t safe here,” her voice was almost gone now and blood ran out of the corners of her mouth. The arrows had hit vital organs and blood had entered her lungs. She was literally drowning in her own blood.

“I will not leave you! I cannot,” Legolas denied, his voice intense and true, the last two words spoken much softer. Suddenly his eyes lit up. “There is a way to save you. Let me heal you,” he requested, his voice almost pleading.

“Legolas, no!” Aragorn had overheard though his full attention was still at the attacking Orcs and keeping them at bay with his sword. “It is too dangerous.”

“Do…do…not put yourself at risk for me,” Ororo asked weakly and lifted a weak and blood covered hand to stroke his cheek. He caught it and let her hand wipe away his tears.

“Without you my life will be empty and unfulfilled. There is only danger to me if you fight me or carry great hate with you…I know you do neither,” he calmed her.

“I…don’t…hate…I…love…you,” she whispered and smiled pained. She hadn’t realized how deep her emotions ran before now. She knew she cared for him, wanted to be near him but first now did she realize she loved him; it was like he was the one she had searched for all her life. Having told him of her emotions she felt a sense of closure and her eyes closed.

“Ororo!” Legolas yelled panicked. Quickly he withdrew the arrows from her chest and laid his hands above her wounds.

*May the light within me go into her, may whatever powers I possess be hers. May the love I feel be known to her…let my life be hers. My breath to yours, my heart to yours, * Legolas mumbled in his native tongue and closed his eyes, going into the trancelike state required for healing. Aragorn had caught some of his friend’s words and pulled Gimli away from the Elf and the fallen human.

“Run!” Aragorn demanded of a baffled Gimli.

“We will leave them unprotected!” Gimli protested hotly but ran on though he turned to look at his fallen comrades. Legolas seemed to glow with an out of this world white light coming from his heart. The light quickly spread to include Ororo, forming a bubble around them. Any Orc who tried to enter the bubble was reduced to ashes in seconds. Gimli almost stopped in awe but Aragorn pulled him forward. As Gimli turned back again he saw that the bubble of white light had grown bigger and any Orc around Legolas was destroyed. The bubble kept growing until it suddenly exploded; the pieces of light entered the remaining Orcs’s hearts and killed them.

Aragorn finally let Gimli draw to a stop as they were out of harm’s way and released his grip on his arm.

“She is healed now?” Gimli asked, awe in his voice. He had never seen anything like that before. He knew that Elves rarely shared their knowledge and powers with anyone but he hadn’t known an Elven healing would do this.

“Almost. Legolas will complete the healing now. The dangerous part is over,” Aragorn breathed in relief. Legolas was safe...and so was the woman.

“We should stay and guard them till the healing is complete,” Gimli said.

“No need. While an Elf heals he and the one he heals cannot be harmed,” Aragorn explained. “We should return to….”

He stopped in mid-sentence and his blood ran cold. A sound was heard through the forest; loud and clear. A sound of danger...a plea for help.

“The horn of Gondor,” Aragorn said unnecessary, fear in his voice. But that could only mean one thing…the son of Gondor was in danger. A man who had started out almost being an enemy but had ended as a friend was in danger.

“Boromir!” Aragorn yelled fearfully, running towards the sound, Gimli close behind him. _Please let him be all right. Do not let me be too late_ , he prayed silently to the Valar as he ran as fast as he could to come to his friend’s aid.


	11. Book 1: Chapter 11: The Death Of A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir gives everything to save the Fellowship

### Chapter 11: The Death Of A Hero

Boromir got up from the ground and wiped his tears away. He had failed in the worst possible way. How could he ever make amends? He shook his head and pulled himself together; he had to think rationally. Should he survive to return to Gondor he would give up his claim at the throne and give it to his beloved younger brother; Faramir who had always looked up to him and seen him like a hero. Somehow he would make sure he remained that hero for his brother, somehow he would rebuild his honour.

Then his thoughts caught up with him. Aragorn was King now. Neither he nor his brother had any claims to the throne anymore and strangely enough Boromir was okay with that. Aragorn was a great leader and would make a great King. However he wished the best for his brother and surely there would be room for someone as intelligent and compassionate as Faramir at Aragorn’s court? He would beg Aragorn to give Faramir a title and position if he had to even though he felt he was unworthy to ask Aragorn this favour. He found he had no pride left in him; only sadness, regret and a deep desire for redemption. He didn’t care about what would happen to himself, he would get by one way or another but his baby brother...he had always looked to him for help and protection and Boromir had never and would never let him down. He loved him too deeply for that. All during his childhood Faramir had been his only friend and the only one he had truly loved. His father had always been distant and a very strict and at times cruel teacher, expecting perfection from his oldest son and pushing him painfully to the limit and over it. He was his father but Boromir had only rarely called him so; normally he addressed him as Sir or Sire.

He hadn’t thought he would ever love anyone like he loved his brother, he had accepted he would be alone forever. Then he had met Elia and everything had changed. They had had an enchanted year together, having married one year after he had first been introduced to her, before she had brutally been taken away from him and as he had held her bloody and broken body in his arms he had known he would never again open his heart to anyone. The lady Arwen he had briefly met in Rivendell had reminded him of Elia; the same sweetness, the same loyalty and gentle strength. However Elia had unlike Arwen been fair-haired and like most Gondorians her bone structure had been stronger than the characteristically fragile and thin bone structure of the Elves. She had been a beautiful woman but as the daughter of a rather unimportant and poor local nobleman Boromir had had to fight his father to get permission to marry her and his father had only given in because Boromir had sworn by the Valar he would marry Elia or none, leaving Gondor without heirs so the land would go to his brother instead. This was a thought his father detested as he had always resented his youngest son; in him seeing too much of his beloved and deceased wife to offer his youngest much else than scorn, anger, disappointment and displeasure.

Sudden screams for help caught his attention. While thinking he had begun to walk back toward the camp but the screams made him freeze. It was...it was Merry and Pippin’s voices. During the time he had been with the Fellowship none had gained a place as special in his heart as those two Hobbits had. He had come to love them like they were the sons he would never have. They showed such defiance, pride, and spirit yet also carefreeness and innocence that they had stolen what had been left of his heart.

He couldn’t let them suffer, he wouldn’t. Determined to save his friends Boromir raced across the land, sword in hand. He spotted them and also saw several Orcs standing around them. They didn’t have a chance. Hobbits were peaceful creatures and though Merry and Pippin both carried a sword they didn’t know how to use it very well despite Boromir’s lessons. Yelling a Gondorian war cry Boromir ran towards them, cutting down every Orc who stood in his way. While he neared the Hobbits, his sword dripping in blood as he cut his way through, he reached for the horn that hang in a leather band by his hip and blew in it. The Horn of Gondor was given to the Steward of Gondor and was said to call help from afar to help Gondor’s son when in need.

Boromir reached the Hobbits and stood before them, guiding them behind him as he tried to defend them from all sides at once. He hoped someone had heard his call because he feared he wouldn’t be able to withstand the increasing onslaught of Orcs for long. His eyes caught an Orc who pointed his bow and its deadly arrow straight at his chest. Should he move to safety the Hobbits would be hit. Boromir lashed out in frustration and killed another Orc. It wasn’t a conscious decision but it was made none the less…for his love and care for the Hobbits…he would give his life. Agony ran through him like fire when the arrow hit him in the chest and forced him to his knees. The pain was intense, worse than anything he had ever felt before. Through a haze of pain he vaguely heard the Hobbits cry and call his name. Remembering he had to save them he painfully got to his feet and began to cut the nearest Orcs down, breathing heavily, blood running down his once so fine clothes. Suddenly another arrow hit his chest and again he was forced to his knees. He had thought it impossible but the pain doubled in intensity, so strong he almost cried out loud. Instead he just lifted pain-filled and clouded eyes up and he saw his killer aim at him again. The Hobbits…he had to protect them. With an out of this world strength that only the ones who are too stubborn to die have, Boromir got to his feet and tried to swing his sword at an approaching Orc. Though terrible weak he succeeded in bringing a few more Orcs down until a third arrow hit his chest and this time when he hit his knees he was unable to get up. He felt how his lifeblood was slowly leaving him, his mind was clouded in agony so burning hot it was indescribable yet he still found the strength to lift his head to look at his killer. With sadistic pleasure the Orc aimed a fourth arrow at him. Forcing himself to be calm, to steady his breathing, Boromir tried to face what was to come with as much dignity as possible. So many thoughts and memories ran through his mind. Memories of him and Faramir playing together as children, of him protecting Faramir from teasing kids when they were young, of his father looking proudly at him as he took his first command, of Elia and her love, her warmth and her beauty. He should have died with her then, he should have stayed with her forever as he had promised her. Now he would fulfil that promise. He had fears for his country, for Merry and Pippin who as soon as he was gone would be defenceless, for Faramir, for Aragorn...for all of Middle Earth. He was left with an overshadowing concern; had his honour been destroyed? Had he made amends and been forgiven? There was no one to answer that so Boromir tried to ignore the Hobbits’ cries and protests, hoping they through his actions knew of his love for them. He looked at his killer again, as ready as he would ever be. Then suddenly Aragorn was in the clearing. He jumped unto the would-be killer and began to fight him.

Exhausted and weak Boromir breathed heavily in and out, almost too far gone to feel the strong concern for Aragorn’s safety that was within him. Gimli entered the clearing and began fighting Orcs to cover for Aragorn, Merry and Pippin. Seeing this the two Hobbits went to Boromir and stood beside him, looking very sad and shocked, tears running down their cheeks.

“We’ll help you. All will be alright,” Pippin promised, a lump in his throat and Merry nodded.

“Yes, all will be alright,” Merry agreed though there was only sorrow and no conviction in the Hobbit’s voice.

“You… have… my… heart, my brothers, my sons…my Little Ones,” Boromir rasped weakly, succeeding in lifting his hand and stroking first Pippin’s and then Merry’s cheek, leaving a bloody trail behind on both.

“You have mine,” they choired, tears falling from their eyes. Suddenly the Hobbits were brutally taken from Boromir and he tried weakly to reach for them but the Orc who now carried one Hobbit beneath each arm only laughed at his futile effects and kicked him away.

“Boromir! Help!” The Hobbits cried and reached out their arms towards him. Boromir fought to get up as pain and fear filled his heart but he was too weak; he could not. He had to stare in agony after his small friends, knowing whatever awaited them wouldn’t be pretty.

Boromir succeeded in crawling toward a tree and leaned heavily against it. Time was running out, he knew it but he had to hang on just a little longer. He needed to ask Aragorn’s forgiveness and beg him to save his two Hobbit friends. With pain-filled eyes he watched Aragorn battle his killer and he prayed that Aragorn would win…Gondor needed its King.

_* * *_

Aragorn reached the clearing and saw Boromir on his knees, three arrows in his chest. Merry and Pippin stood behind him, sobbing and yelling. Aragorn searched for Boromir’s attacker and found an Orc aiming yet another arrow at the fallen nobleman. Sorrow was replaced by rage as Aragorn ran as fast as he could and bumped into Boromir’s would be killer, spoiling his aim so the arrow went wild. All rational thoughts disappeared as Aragorn fought the Orc, hitting and kicking all he could. They got up together, still locked in a savage embrace but Aragorn broke free and kicked out after the Orc, bringing him down. The Orc was quickly up again and Aragorn drew his sword, swinging at him and cutting his right arm off. Shocked Aragorn saw that the severe injury didn’t seem to bother the Orc who kept coming at him. Using a backhand stroke he knew well, Aragorn beheaded the Orc who finally gave up the fight.

Aragorn drew hard breaths as he tried to regain his focus. Suddenly he remembered why he had been fighting in the first place; Boromir. He looked around and found his countryman leaned against a tree. With growing fear he noticed that he seemed very tired, looked very still and he had fallen down a bit so he was almost laying flat down on the grass. With his heart in his throat Aragorn reached Boromir and knelt beside him. The arrows were still in his chest and he knew the pain had to be agonising. As he stood to lose the man did Aragon, for the first time, begin to realize how deeply he had come to care for him. He fought to keep his emotions in check and fought back tears though he knew they were visible in his words.

“Stay still,” it was more a plea than a command. Aragorn was too good a fighter not to know in his mind that Boromir’s wounds were fatal yet his heart didn’t want to admit it. They had been through so much together already. He felt he had just now begun to see the real Boromir and he had liked what he had found. Boromir was one of very few humans he could call friend and like Gandalf he stood to lose him too.

“They took the little ones!” Such agony was in his voice as Boromir said it. It was his first thought, it was this that had kept him fighting the burning pain and beginning darkness. He had to make sure the little ones were taken care of.

“Do not worry. I will see them safe,” Aragorn promised though he knew it was a promise he would have to fight to keep but as he now fully began to understand Boromir’s deep love for the two Hobbits he would strike to do his utmost to fulfil Boromir’s last wish.

“Frodo. Where is Frodo?” Boromir rasped weakly, blood running out the corners of his mouth. He had to know. His weakness, his failure had driven him away. He had lost it all; his honour, his country and his life.

“I let Frodo go,” Aragorn answered softly, not wanting Boromir to worry or trouble himself now.

“Then you did what I could not,” Boromir sobbed, letting the tears run free. He had to say it; he needed to say it. “I tried to take the Ring from him.” He didn’t know why he said it; to see Aragorn’s disgust that he felt he deserved or in hope for his forgiveness that he needed more than anything else?

“The Ring is beyond our reach now,” Aragorn simply answered and smiled softly at his friend. He had known Boromir would probably try and take the Ring yet now it all seemed so insignificant. He knew Boromir had had the purest of intentions and he knew his heart was filled with light; not darkness. That wasn’t an excuse but it was an explanation.

“Forgive me. I did not see. I have failed you all,” Boromir cried and hung his head in defeat. He could feel his agony spreading, his blood and his strength leaving him.

“No, Boromir!” Aragorn denied hotly. “You fought bravely. You have kept your honour,” he continued and that he meant it was evident in his tone and eyes. Desperate to try and do something; anything at all, Aragorn reached for the shaft of an arrow and began to pull it out.

“Leave it,” Boromir asked weakly, stopping him with his words. “It is over.” He knew it was. He could feel it. Strange but now the agony was gone. He now only felt cold. So very cold.

“The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness. And my city to ruin,” there was such agony in Boromir’s voice, such pain that it cut Aragorn’s heart to pieces.

“I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall - nor our people fail,” Aragorn swore and knew he would do anything to keep his word.

“Our people,” Boromir repeated and tasted the word; our. Aragorn had forgiven him, he had accepted him back as a man of Gondor and maybe more importantly for the future of Gondor; Aragorn now considered himself a Gondorian and was ready to fight for Her. Now, anointed in Boromir’s blood, he was ready to be King. Boromir smiled weakly, finding a sense of peace in this knowledge. “Our people.”

Boromir knew time was running out, he wished it wasn’t. There was so much more to do, so much, too much, now rested on Aragorn’s shoulders. He wished he had time to tell Aragorn all what was in his heart, explain...explain it all. He reached for his sword that had fallen beside him but he was too weak to reach it. Aragorn saw the gesture and gently put his sword in his hand. Boromir held his sword close to his chest, above the heart.

“I would have followed you, my captain,” Boromir got out, hanging on just a little bit longer. That he was; always had been. “My brother,” he continued weakly, fading fast. My brother, he thought fondly. Yes, Aragorn was as dear and beloved to him as his blood brother; Faramir. At this thought he had to fight despair for he was deeply saddened that he didn’t get a chance to say farewell to Faramir and silently prayed his brother knew of his love. He had looked after his brother all his life; if there was an afterlife and he was allowed entry into it Boromir vowed to keep vigil over his brother from beyond. “My king,” he got the last word out and forced a smile at him. _Yes, my King_ , he thought. That he was. From the beginning, even when he had fought it, he was the King…he had always been. Then even his strength and stubbornness wasn’t enough anymore…and darkness claimed him. His eyes stayed open and focused...starring right at Aragorn who was bent over him.

With tears running freely from his eyes Aragorn bent down and softly kissed Boromir’s brow, taking his head between his hands.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor,” he whispered brokenly and formed a fist with his right hand that he took to his lips. He kissed his index finger and then guided it to his heart in a symbolic gesture of grief and love before he bowed his head and he cried. _Be at peace_ , he thought sadly. In the time Aragorn had known him never once had he seemed happy or at peace. He prayed that death would be kinder to him than life had been.

Aragorn was too consumed by sorrow to notice Gimli standing behind him, bowing his head in sorrow as he saw the fallen warrior. All the Orcs had first now either been killed or ran away so this was the first time he realized the terrible price they had had to pay for today’s victory. Something in the sky caught his eye and Gimli looked up to see Ororo come flying toward him with Legolas in her arms. They landed beside him and Legolas went to Aragorn and laid a calming hand on his bond brother’s shoulder. He was too late. As soon as he had finished healing Ororo she had flown him to where Aragorn was but he was too late to save Boromir; he couldn’t raise people from the dead. Through the new Healers Link he shared with Ororo he felt her soul all the more clearly and could easily read her distress, sorrow and guilt which was also reflected in her face as she stood beside him and saw Boromir’s body and Aragorn bending over it in tears. Hadn’t Legolas been saving her he might have been able to save Boromir. This knowledge, this guilt, she knew she would carry within her till the day she died just like she would know that any day after this one was a gift she had Legolas to thank for.

“Oh, God,” Rogue said shocked and hid her head by Logan’s shoulder as she, Logan and Scott reached the clearing after all the Orcs they had been fighting had also either been killed or ran away. Apparently they had been after only one thing; the Ringbearer and being unable to differentiate one Hobbit from another they had taken the ones they could find; Merry and Pippin.

“Bloody bastards,” Logan swore at Boromir’s attacker as he saw what state his body was in. Rogue began sobbing by his shoulder and Logan stroked her hair while whispering calming words of love and comfort but within hot fury burned. He would see all those Orcs dead one way or another!

“Murderers. Sadistic murderers!” Scott swore hotly, feeling grief overcome him. He hadn’t known Boromir for long but he had found much in him to admire; courage and strength…a strong will and his abilities as a great warrior. He would see that he was avenged; one way or another.

_* * *_

Scott was beginning to think if not Logan was right. Boromir was the second member of the Fellowship they had lost during the travels. So far only Aragorn’s ’group’ had fallen but what if it was his? What if it was Ororo, Rogue or Logan? If not for Legolas he would have lost Ororo today already and he felt guilty that he hadn’t been there to protect her and grateful to Legolas than he had. Maybe Logan was right; this wasn’t their fight. He couldn’t let his people die in a battle not theirs. On the other hand if they left now, where would they go? Lord Elrond had said Rivendell was under attack or would be soon so that was out of the question. They didn’t know this land or its people so they wouldn’t know where to go. On top of it all if Sauron really was as evil and strong as Aragorn had let on then soon there wouldn’t be any safe place left anywhere in Middle Earth. Could he just run and hide while innocents suffered? No, he had an obligation to help no matter the cost.

Scott’s attention was brought back to the task at hand when Aragorn walked by him and toward the boat wherein he had neatly laid Boromir’s body. The young King had refused anyone but Legolas anywhere near the dead Steward. He had himself removed the arrows from the man’s chest and carried him to the boat where he with Legolas’ help had cleaned him up, washed his face clean from blood and dirt, washed his hands and his chest. It had been agonising to watch but Scott could see that strangely enough none was as moved by Boromir’s death as Aragorn. During the entire time Aragorn had focused on the task at hand but there had been such raw emotion and pain in his eyes that it had cut Scott’s heart. In his sorrow Scott felt like he had seen the true, human Aragorn and what he had seen so far he liked.

While Aragorn with Legolas’s help had got Boromir ready for his last voyage Scott, Logan and Rogue had went in search for the missing Hobbit; Sam. In the meantime Ororo and Gimli had stood guard to make sure Aragorn and Legolas were safe while they prepared the body. Aragorn had told them that the Orcs had taken Merry and Pippin, news that had shocked them all as they recalled how much Boromir had cared for them. He had also told them he had let Frodo go to find his own way to Mt. Doom, saying it was safer that way so none would be tempted by the Ring. In their sorrow Logan, Rogue and Scott had been happy to have a task to try and force the dark thoughts of Boromir’s death away though his face, forever frozen in agony, would haunt them all till the day they died. After several hours they had returned back to the others empty-handed. Legolas concluded Sam had gone after Frodo and that they were surely together now. Having seen the love between the two Hobbits, Scott agreed that Sam would do anything for his friend.

Boromir was now ready for burial, dressed in newly washed and prepared clothes, and they were all gathered to see him off. He had been washed and cleaned. The arrows were gone, there was no visible blood, and his hands were neatly folded above his chest, his sword between them. He laid in one of the beautiful Elven boats, his shield at his feet. He looked almost peaceful...like he was sleeping.

“Someone should say something,” Scott whispered through the lump in his throat. Rogue sought support by Logan’s chest, his arms around her. Ororo stood by Legolas who had one arm around her waist, a loose but supportive embrace. The normally perfect looking Elven prince seemed as affected by Boromir’s death as the others; his long blond hair flew widely around his head and his clothes were dirty and messed. His eyes showed deep sorrow as he gently bent down and softly kissed the top of Ororo’s white hair. Gimli and Scott stood alone, lost in thought and trying to fight back tears.

Aragorn came forth and stood before Boromir’s body and the gathered group. He tried several times to start a sentence but his voice failed him every time. His eyes seemed so much older and a world sadder than when they had started out this morning. His clothes had always been dirty and torn but to it he had added Boromir’s armbands; their fine design, fitting a nobleman, seemed out of place on Aragorn’s plain Ranger’s clothes. The tears he had cried had left a white, clean trail down his dirty cheeks.

“Boromir…” he finally found his voice but almost broke down again just hearing his name. “...he was a man, a warrior…a nobleman and the son of the Steward of Gondor.” He finally lifted his eyes to look at the others, his eyes showing his grief. “But he was so much more than that. I saw the real Boromir too late. I found he was filled with deep emotions; he loved his country deeply and I know he would have made a good leader. He spoke warmly of Her as he did of his deceased wife and of the younger brother he loved,” his lips curved in a smile as he remembered the fallen warrior and their long talk in the Golden Wood. “He also loved Merry and Pippin who he affectionately called ‘little ones’. He defended them and cared for them since the beginning of our journey and till his...death. We will never know what in them awoke such quick and easy affection from him but we know it was there,” he paused for a moment and stroked a loose hair out of his eyes, not noticing the tears he cried. “Be at peace now, son of Gondor,” he whispered and went closer to the boat to give Boromir his final respects.

“He was such a complex person. I’m sad I never got to know all his layers and true depths,” Scott said softly as Aragorn went to Boromir’s side and gently kissed his brow and affectionately stroked some hair out of unblinking eyes with a healer’s gentle touch before he pushed the boat off the shore and out into the water. First Scott thought the boat would just sail forever until he noticed a waterfall further ahead. With strange and morbid fascination everyone followed the boat with their eyes until it went out over the waterfall. For a long while afterwards everyone kept looking toward where Boromir had disappeared, some with a foolish and childish wish that if they looked closely enough he would come back towards them from where they had lost him from their vision.


	12. Book 1: Chapter 12: Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship move on and then fate of Phoenix is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for now for this large update. Hope reading all of this will help someone through these difficult times. Kudos and comments would mean a lot to me so if you are enjoying the story please let me know. :)

### Chapter 12: Moving On

Frodo’s heart was heavy as he ran across the forest and toward the sea. Out of breath he turned and saw that the Orcs he had had on his tail were now gone. On his wild escape toward the sea and the boats waiting there he had spotted Merry and Pippin who had covered for him, drawing the Orcs after them so he could escape and now as he had reached the sea he knew their plan had worked but at what price? His friends could be dead. Tears fell from his eyes and angrily he held the Ring in his hand, set to throw it into the sea. It had brought him nothing but sorrow and heartache. Had brought the Fellowship nothing but death. As he was to do it he suddenly remembered his old friend, Gandalf. He had had faith in him and his abilities. He had trusted him. He closed his hand around the Ring and hung it back around his neck in its chain. He couldn’t...he wouldn’t let Gandalf down. He would see this through even if he had to do it alone like the Elven Queen Galadriel had said. With new determination Frodo wiped his tears away and went to the boats. He got a boat out into the water and was paddling away from the shore when suddenly Sam showed up and called after him.

“You cannot come with me,” Frodo yelled to him, trying to ignore the pain his words brought him. He could use the love and warmth Sam’s companionship would bring him right about now. Sam’s face fell in determined folds and without a word he began to walk out into the water, heading straight for Frodo’s boat.

“Sam? What are you doing?” Frodo yelled alarmed, panic beginning to wash over him. “You cannot swim!"

Sam didn’t seem to hear, he just kept walking on the ocean floor toward his friend until the water began to rise and he disappeared from Frodo’s line of vision.

“Sam!” Frodo yelled terrified. No more of his friends would die on this trip; Frodo would not allow that to happen. Frodo jumped from the boat and into the water, searching for Sam. He found him and got him up to breathe air. Coughing and spitting out water they both managed to crawl back into the boat, dripping wet. Frodo couldn’t help but smile at his larger, blond-haired friend and gave him a big hug before he released him.

“Sam…. Why did you do that?” There was such relief and joy in his words that for the moment why Sam had done it drowned in the sheer joy at being together again.

“Gandalf told me 'don’t you lose him, Samwise Gamgee’. And I don't intend to,” his eyes were so filled with love it almost broke Frodo’s heart. “I don’t intend to.”

“Oh, Sam!” Frodo said, clearly moved as he ran out of words to describe what he felt so instead he just gave Sam a long and tight embrace before he drew back and looked his beloved friend deep in the eyes. “I’m glad you’re with me, Sam,” he said softly and smiled. Together with Sam he could do it; he knew he could. Together…not alone anymore.

_* * *_

“So...what now?” Scott broke the strange silence after Boromir’s funeral. Gimli and Legolas looked to Aragorn while Logan, Rogue and Ororo automatically looked to Scott who to show he had accepted the King as leader refused to look at them and instead turned to Aragorn.

For a long while the young King was silent, still locked in sorrow. _Say something_ , Scott urged him. He knew that though Legolas would always follow his friend and Gimli too because he didn’t trust the others Aragorn would have an even harder time with Logan than he already did if he didn’t soon succeed in giving the man some reason to follow him. Scott knew from personal experience that Logan’s trust and loyalty was hard to win but when given it was unquestionable.

“The Fellowship has failed,” Legolas said softly, sadly. Ororo put her arms around his waist from behind, trying to comfort him. As she had come face to face with death, first what could have been her own and then Boromir’s, she felt wasting more time was pointless. She knew she had come to love Legolas and she wanted him to know that, wanted to show that. Life could be over so quickly and she did not wish to waste a minute more nor spend any more time alone. Stunned by her initiative Legolas first stiffened but then relaxed into her embrace, enjoying her nearness and put his elegant hands onto hers.

Logan looked set to say some icy remark but a soft hand on his chest from Rogue who stood within his embrace made him forget it and instead he bent to kiss his wife on the hair.

“This Fellowship has **not** failed,” Aragorn finally spoke and as he lifted his eyes to look at them, his gaze was strong and determined as was his voice. “Gandalf and Boromir have not died in vain. We will go after Merry and Pippin as Boromir asked of me and we will save them. As we will see Gondor safe.”

Scott could have cheered. That was the spirit he had hoped for. “Seems good to me,” Scott agreed and looked at the others.

“Whatever,” Logan mumbled, still not trusting Aragorn. Rogue nodded her accept at Scott’s words as did Gimli.

“You will always have my allegiance,” Legolas said to his friend and Aragorn smiled warmly.

“And mine,” Ororo spoke and Aragorn nodded, looking around at the remainder of the Fellowship. He would see that Boromir’s wishes got fulfilled. To that he swore.

“Let's go hunt some Orc,” Aragorn said and led the way through the forest. Soon Legolas walked in front, having such keen eyesight that he was better to track the Orcs. Ororo flew above him, ready to warn the group should they encounter any Orc.

Ororo had told the X-men how Legolas had healed her. If any of them had had any doubts about the Elven prince they were gone now and even Logan now counted him as a friend, as one of his pack. After Legolas walked Aragorn and behind him the others.

“I feel…death,” Legolas suddenly said and stopped, his stare terrified and empty. Ororo landed beside him, her eyes concerned.

“Are you alright?” she asked worried and lay a concerned hand on his arm.

“Look around. Stay alert,” Scott ordered, automatically sliding back into the leader role he usually had. Logan popped his claws and eased Rogue behind him, looking for any attackers. Gimli held his axe ready but when Scott looked at Aragorn his face had gone completely white, his eyes open yet unseeing...raw fear in them.

“Arwen,” that one word held such love and agony it broke Scott’s heart. Legolas tipped his head as if listening, his features pained as if he was in agony. Ororo stood beside him and hesitantly took his right hand between hers, unsure of what to do but wanting to ease his pain.

“No…not her,” his voice seemed to come from afar as if listening to something far away.

“The battle for Middle Earth has begun and even the Elves are now in danger. Some of Sauron’s men must have approached Rivendell or the Golden Wood,” Scott suddenly realized.

“He feels the other Elves.... he can feel if one of his kind is hurt or….dies,” Legolas explained.

“Elves dying in close proximity to me…I will feel their deaths painfully as well because of the Healers Link I through Legolas now has with Elven magic,” Ororo finished Scott’s trail of thought, her voice filled with shared pain and compassion.

*Do not fear, my love. I am unhurt yet your presence grows further away and this will be the last time I can contact you. Be careful, my beloved, * a gentle female voice spoke on the wind, caressing Aragorn, flying around him, laying around him like a blanket of comfort. Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Arwen was with him, before the wind died. When he opened his eyes again they were determined and held an urgency and desperation they hadn’t held before. He would not let any more people die or get hurt…they had to succeed!

“We must hurry. Time is of the essence,” Aragorn said grimly and everyone nodded.

As they moved on a sadness, a feeling of loss and urgency had taken them. The thought that the beauty of the Elves would be tainted by war and hate was like a mental blow that made it seem as if nothing was sacred anymore, nothing was certain or safe.

_* * *_

_They have lost another team member_ , Phoenix thought and smiled. Unlike the other one who had been too powerful this one might be easier. Sauron would want his strength, his knowledge…his obedience. His thoughts of love and regret at his death troubled her but she knew well how to break a spirit…she should because Sauron had done it to her; broken her only to rebuild her in his image. He had showed her what she really wanted; what she could be. Power beyond belief, abilities greater than anything. She was fire and life incarnate; she was Phoenix and she would resurrect Boromir from the dead and he would join their cause…join them or die for good.

She flew over the land with an ease unmatched by anyone. In this entire land she had yet to encounter another who possessed the ability of flight. She was the only one…expect one; Ororo, the Weather Goddess who she had once loved as a sister. No, that wasn’t true. Jean had loved her, Phoenix didn’t love anything save power and that she had now. Beautiful, graceful, red-haired, green-eyed and just as deadly as she was stunning; Phoenix was the right name for her.

She knew she had the advantage. Through Jean’s memories and weakness...her love, she knew of all the X-men’s powers and weaknesses and through Sauron she knew of all the other members of the Fellowship. As soon as she got that Ring for Sauron as he wanted, she could get what she wanted; absolute power and full control over her own world, the world she came from.

The future looked bright and it looked like it would belong to Sauron...and her; Phoenix!


	13. Book 2: Towers Of Darkness: Chapter 1: On Love And Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The followship move on and Legolas and Ororo talk about their feelings

# Book 2: Towers Of Darkness

# Chapter 1: On Love And Strength

“This is getting ridiculous. We have been running after the Orcs who took the Hobbits for two days now and we still haven’t been able to as much as see them!” Logan complained as Aragorn finally stopped from where he had been running in the front, Legolas close behind him. Logan cast murderous looks at the Elf. Damn him! He was not even out of breath and was by now the only Fellowship member who managed to look beautiful and refreshed despite everything they had been through. The stain, sorrow, dirt and fast pace had meant all the others were dirty and rugged, the men having grown beards, also the X-men and it made especially Scott look older and it somehow made it easier to see how burdened he felt. Ororo was the cleanest of them after Legolas; she had managed to stay airborne most of the way and had thus avoid most of the strain and dirt so even by virtue of this she seemed to match the beautiful Elf.

“Saruman must help speed their way,” Aragorn guessed and looked out over the open plains they had reached now as they had followed Merry and Pippin’s trail to fulfil the promise Aragorn had given Boromir; he would see the Little Ones safe. To that he had sworn. As Aragorn’s thoughts went to Boromir he felt a stone fell on his heart and he absentminded touched the armbands he wore, the armbands that bore the Steward of Gondor’s seal and had belonged to Boromir.

“A Dwarf is not meant for this kind of running,” Gimli protested, breathing heavily in and out. He was having the most trouble keeping up with the determined and fit human King and the ever ready and elegant Elf.

“This pace even gives your Danger Room exercises a run for their money,” Rogue teased Scott, trying to regain her breath. She had been relieved to find that the weather at least had gotten better as they had left the forest and had reached the open plains.

“We must get to the Hobbits before they are taken to Mordor. When first they enter there we will have no way of reaching them,” Legolas defended his bond brother’s pace.

“I have scouted ahead but I saw no Orc. However I feel something in the air, something isn’t right,” Ororo said concerned as she landed beside Legolas and blushed under his admiring stare as he saw her slow decent to the ground. When she had landed she smiled at him and he took both her hands in his and took her right hand up to his lips and softly kissed it.

“Will you two nature kids stop it with the bad vibes? We know already,” Logan complained at Ororo and Legolas but a smile tug at his lips at finally seeing his friend happy. Seeing them together was like seeing an old fashioned courtship develop and grow.

“It’s getting dark. We should find shelter soon,” Scott suggested, observing the darkening sky so he didn’t have to watch the couple; their love only made him long even more for Jean.

“Yes, let’s call it a day,” Gimli eagerly agreed.

“Getting tired, Dwarf?” Legolas asked in a teasing tone, surprising the X-men with his tone.

“What do you know? Pointy-Ears have a sense of humour after all,” Logan mumbled. The other X-men smiled at this. “Not much but it’s there…somewhere,” Logan continued in hopes of drawing a laugh out of Rogue and succeeded. He drew her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head.

“Dwarfs weren’t meant to travel like this unlike you Elves who have nothing else to fill your days with,” Gimli gave back, but his tone held no real heat.

“Not counting combing and braiding their long locks and admiring themselves in smooth surfaces,” Logan teased, jumping in the fun and Rogue and Scott broke smiles as Gimli broke out in a loud laugh.

“The beauty and immortality of the Elven race have always been cause for envy among other races,” Legolas gave back, a smile playing over his lips.

“We make camp. Ororo, did you find shelter nearby we can use?” Aragorn asked, breaking up the teasing. He turned to the white-haired woman he had come to respect as a powerful, and to him magical, being on their long journey.

“I did. It’s just up ahead,” Ororo pulled away from Legolas and was forced to let go of his hand so he could be ready with an arrow should an enemy approach. She led them up to where some big stones would form a kind of wall to one side, making them feel a little more protected.

“We mustn’t start a fire, it could draw unnecessary attention to us,” Aragorn warned and sat down with his back to the stones.

“No warmth, no food…I love this place already. Logan, darlin’, we really must come here every year for our anniversary,” Rogue said in a half complaining/half teasing tone of voice. Logan grinned and held her tight as they sat down, also having their backs to the stones but at the other end of where Aragorn sat to get some privacy.

“We still have water and the bread we got with us from Rivendell,” Ororo said as she went through some of the bags that it had been Logan’s turn to carry for today. Scott noticed Aragorn looked away, one hand caressing the jewel that hung around his neck as if the mere mention of Rivendell brought him pain.

“Bread and water. It’s a feast,” Logan declared with false cheer and Scott couldn’t help but smile. One day he would tell Logan how much his humour kept them all up in this hard time…well, okay that day would be on his dead bed…preferably the day after…but anyway. It was the thought that counted, right?

Ororo began to divide the food while Legolas sat down between Aragorn and Rogue, with lots of space on either side. He pretended to be checking his bow and arrows but his eyes kept returning to Ororo and following her every move.

“She will be alright, you know,” Scott said and startled Aragorn as he sat down beside him. The young King’s loneliness and longing had reminded him of Jean so he had decided to try and offer what little comfort he could.

“Who?”

Scott nodded to the jewel around his neck. “Arwen. The Elven Princess who waved at us when we left Rivendell,” Scott explained with a smile.

Aragorn frowned, still looking at the jewel and not Scott. “I know.”

Scott looked confused at him. “If you know this then why….” He spread out his hands in a bewildered gesture.

“She will leave this land,” he looked up and into Scott’s shaded eyes. Such anguish was in them that Scott for a moment was at a loss for words.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked confused.

“Here.” Ororo handed them each bread and water and both men nodded a thanks. When Ororo had finished dividing the food and had seated herself at Legolas’ right side, Gimli on the other side of him, Aragorn’s eyes returned to Scott.

“My foster father, Lord Elrond, told me before I left. Arwen will leave this land with her people as she should,” his voice was low and pained.

“I don’t understand. But…what about Rivendell? Saruman will come,” Scott asked puzzled as he took a bite of the bread. When first he had tasted the bread it had tasted strange, maybe even a bit displeasing but now, after weeks with little else to eat he had grown kinda fond of it. He absentminded wondered if the bread was made by Elven or Hobbit recipe.

“My father told me that the Elves’ time has come. They will leave,” Aragorn explained this as if it was an obvious thing. Scott stared shocked at him, first remembering to close his mouth after several seconds had passed.

“Let me get this straight… your father…okay, foster father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell will desert his own country? All the Elves will leave? The Queen we met as well?”

“Yes,” Aragorn nodded.

“Sooo…they all leave…to where?” Scott was more puzzled than ever by the ways of the creatures living in this world. Who would give up without a fight, just like that?

“They will cross over, leave for Valinor and live forever where there are no wars, no hate or despair.”

“Now that explains everything. I completely understand now.” Scott shook his head in frustration.

“Good,” Aragorn nodded at him.

“I was being sarcastic.”

Aragorn looked confused at him. “I’m not familiar with this word,” the young King admitted.

Scott shook his head. “Never mind.” He was beginning to feel a headache coming on and took a hand to his forehead. “Okay, one more time. All the Elves will…die, go to Heaven or something and leave Earth…”

“Middle Earth,” Aragorn corrected.

“Middle Earth to Sauron’s mercy? Sauron; a madman out to destroy everything. Am I right or have I missed something?” Scott tried to keep his voice under control.

“I do not understand the word Heaven but yes, as much as a human who does not have knowledge of the Elves can explain it, it is correct,” Aragorn nodded, his tone not patronising but simply stating a fact.

“And you’re okay with this? Everyone is okay with this?” Scott asked disbelieving. If this was true then Legolas had joined the Fellowship, knowing all he knew, his entire family, yes, in fact his entire race, would be gone and leave him the last Elf in Middle Earth. What a sacrifice he must have made and he bore it so well; without regret and without complaint. Though maybe such strength was in the Elven race but it was natural for the human race to question and mourn.

Scott looked intensely at Aragorn but he remained quiet. “For crying out loud! It’s your family! Your father and your lover you’re giving up on not to mention your home. You have nothing to say about that? Don’t you care at all?” Scott was aware that his tone had risen louder than it should but right now he didn’t care. Maybe Logan was right; everyone here was nuts!

“Of course I care!” Aragorn’s eyes shined with anger and sorrow and his voice had also risen, for the first time since Scott had met him he seemed to have lost his calm as his control had failed him. “It was my home, the only place I knew. The Elves are more my people than any group of humans will ever be. Arwen is my life, she is my light, my heart and my soul. I have loved her for as long as I can remember.”

“Then why do you give her up?” Scott demanded to know.

“It is because I love her I give her up.” Aragorn saw the confused look on Scott’s face and elaborated, “Arwen is an Elf and though I often feel more Elf than human…I am human. If Arwen binds herself to me she will either see me grow old and die, having to spend eternity alone or her unhappiness could kill her,” tears shined in his eyes as he went on. “In any case, all I bring her is death.”

“Maybe you should let her decide what she wants. If Jean has taught me anything then it’s to believe in the power of love and the strength of a woman,” Scott said softly.

“She sounds like an amazing woman,“ Aragorn offered, remembering that Scott too was without the woman he loved, maybe forever.

“She is. She is powerful yet kind and loving. She’s…” Scott smiled to himself as he brought a mental image of Jean to him, of how she had looked one morning standing bathed in the sunlight, how she had seemed to glow. Even though he had never seen her in her true colours but always in shades of red she had always shined; always been beautiful.

“She is the woman you love,” Aragorn finished for him, knowing just how he felt. Scott nodded but noticed the sadness in the young King’s eyes.

“Can you see my friends sitting over there? Logan and Rogue?” Scott turned towards them and pointed at where they sat, Rogue saying something to Logan while he had his arms around her and her head rested on his chest.

Aragorn looked at them. “I see them.”

  
“They had every obstacle against them. Rogue can never touch as you know yet still Logan loves her, he’s much older than her but she doesn’t care… he practically can’t die,” Scott ended and turned to look at Aragorn.

“You mean to tell me…?” there was disbelief in his voice and written all over his face.

“Don’t judge Logan by his at times, okay, often, rude behaviour. He’s a great warrior, a great friend and no man could love his wife more than Logan loves Rogue. He would die for her and he almost did, several times in fact,” Scott explained, his tone serious. “Of course, if you tell Logan what I just said about him I’ll have to kill you.”

Aragorn looked surprised at him, thinking he was serious and Scott couldn’t help but laugh.

“Just kidding. But seriously, look at how happy they are,” both men cast another brief look at Logan and Rogue. “They can never truly touch or kiss, never have children and Logan will outlive Rogue by at least several hundred years. We may not be talking about Logan living for eternity alone but it will be a very long time and it’s not just Elves who can die from a broken heart,” Scott explained, sympathy, concern and love towards his friends clear in his voice.

“You are saying…” Aragorn began slowly, thoughtfully.

“I’m saying that you can’t make decisions for others. There will be sacrifices, mostly on her part as there are mostly sacrifices on Logan’s part in their relationship but like Rogue couldn’t choose Logan’s path for him even if she felt he was better off with someone else, neither can you choose Arwen’s path for her. From what you have told me she truly loves you. Have faith in her love and her strength,” Scott finished, feeling a little out of breath after such a long speech.

“You would make a great statesman. You have the word in your might,” Aragorn admitted and smiled, touching the jewel that hung around his neck. “You are right. She came to me once, not long ago. Even if she does leave, and I still think she should live forever, be with her own kind…. then I will believe in her love. I will not forget,” it was a vow, softly spoken but strong nevertheless.

“Good,” Scott felt better now than he had in days. If he never saw Jean again at least he could help someone else be happy, even if the happiness was to be forever bound to a memory.

“Thank you,” the words were simple but sincere and Scott knew that giving thanks probably wasn’t something he was used to.

“My pleasure,“ Scott smiled though in the back of his mind he was more concerned than ever. If the Elves had left and he had seen that the Dwarfs had been slain in Moria that meant that all that stood between the destruction of Earth, Middle Earth he corrected himself, was the shattered Fellowship and the humans. He wondered if there were a lot of humans in Middle Earth. He knew Boromir’s land, Gondor, had to be occupied by humans but besides that…they hadn’t met many humans on their journey so maybe there wasn’t very many. Things didn’t look well at all.

“We should get some rest. We have a long walk ahead of us,” Aragorn said and lay down on the ground, seemly doing just what he had said. The man was almost one with nature, so at ease here. Sleeping outdoors seemed natural to him but sleep didn’t come that easy to Scott. When finally he drifted off his dreams were haunted by fear and death… a shadow stalked him and formed the figure of a Phoenix. The Phoenix changed and turned into Jean just as she ran him through with a sword. Scott awoke with a start in the middle of the night, his heart racing and his brow sweaty. _Just a dream_ , he tried to reassure himself and get his heartbeat and breathing back under control. _Just a dream…yet why had it then felt so real?_

* * *

“You alright? You look so thoughtful,” Ororo asked as she seated herself next to Legolas after she had handed out all the bread and water. It had been a hard and long walk so Ororo ate her dinner quickly, admiring Legolas’s calm as he slowly ate his bread.

“I am well. I was just thinking of the Hobbits,” Legolas admitted and a frown covered his brow. They shouldn’t even have been a part of this trip; Merry and Pippin had only come along to help their friends.

“We will find them,” Ororo promised though she wasn’t that sure they would. The Hobbits were like children and she had come to love and regard them as such. If they had been killed…she didn’t even want to think it. There had been too much death already; she wasn’t sure if she could take any more sorrow.

“Tell me of your world,” Legolas deliberately changed subject as she continued to eat.

“It’s not like this place. It was once perhaps, but people have lost touch with nature. The beauty I find in this place is hard to find in my world,” Ororo explained, looking out over the open plains and back towards the woods. Nature had such beauty and power here; it was amazing.

“How do your people live? In trees?” Legolas asked curiously.

“No, no,” Ororo shook her head and smiled at him. “Only few people possess the powers my friends and I have and only a small handful of them can fly.”

  
”You must be a Queen among mortals then,” Legolas said softly, his eyes kind and intense.

She frowned, remembering back. “Where I was born I was worshipped as a Goddess because of my powers but I left for a more populated area. There they weren’t so kind.”

“Please explain,” confusion was in his voice.

 _Explain? How to explain_ , she thought.

“People who don’t have the abilities my friends and I have fear us, often hate us.”

  
”I do not understand,” Legolas said, even more confused than ever. “Why would they hate you when you have so much to give?”

  
”In my world humans always fear what they don’t know or don’t understand and they react to fear with hate and violence. In my world it is unfortunately so that many humans discriminate against those not like themselves in any way.”

  
”Then…Elves are not welcomed in human kingdoms?” Legolas wanted to know and sadness took a hold of his heart as he remembered that one day…they would part and there might not be a place for them in either world as long as they stayed together.

“We have no real Kingdoms left, not the way you have them, and Elves, Dwarfs, Orcs…we have no such creatures in my world, at least not as far as we know,” Ororo explained, her thoughts going the same way as Legolas’s had. If they got through this there would be no place for Legolas in her violent and hate-filled world.

“Your world sound like a cold place to live,” Legolas said softly.

“In a way it is. We try to make peace now after hundreds of years of war but often fail. People hate so easily and forgive so rarely. They discriminate or even hate based on genes, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, religion…colour. Anything at all, really,” she shrugged, not wanting to go on. Comparing her world with this one, even war-torn as it was now, made her see how much had been lost…too much to restore.

“Colour?” Legolas asked surprised, though all Ororo’s examples, save nationality and gender which in some degree also existed among his people, had shocked him. She nodded. Having both finished their meal Legolas let a hand cover hers and looked at his own pale white hand covering her soft brown one. “How can anyone hate because of any of those things? Just look at our hands…so beautiful…poetic,” the last was said with his eyes meeting hers, such deep, soulful eyes…old eyes.

“Fear makes people ignore the obvious beauty that always lies within diversity,” she said hoarsely, feeling suddenly that the temperature had risen. She licked sudden dry lips. Had he any idea how endlessly magical, poetic…yes, beautiful he looked when he held her hand and looked at her with so much love in his eyes? Did he have any idea what it did to her heart? After all the failed relationships she had had, all the men who had cheated or used her or simply hadn’t been all there…to look into his eyes was like finding Heaven, making it hard to look away.

“Love can make them find it again,” his voice was soft like a caress and his free hand laid around her neck, pulling her slowly into a kiss. Her breathing quickened as their lips met, such fine lips, such a sweet and light kiss. As they pulled apart she felt out of breath, her eyes shinning with love and desire.

“We shouldn’t do this,” his voice was a mumble.

She felt like someone had thrown ice water at her when she heard those words. She drew back and stood up.

“No, you’re right,” she tried to keep her voice under control as she walked away, needing some space, feeling rejected and very alone.

“You alright, Ororo?” Rogue called after her.

“Fine. I just need some fresh air,” she reassured her and kept walking.

“Yeah, it’s not like we have been walking outside all day,” she heard Logan say under his breath, trying to make her smile. She ignored him, not in the mood to be cheered up, and walked over to a group of trees standing some 200 metres from where the others were resting.

“Ororo?” Legolas’s voice reached her ears and she fastened her pace.

“Ororo, please. Talk to me,” suddenly he was behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to come to a halt. She turned around to face him.

“It’s alright, really. We have a job to do and should concentrate on it,” she knew she was being childish, she knew this was stupid, she knew he was right…yet she still wanted all she shouldn’t long for.

“Ororo, it’s not that I do not want you,” Legolas began and her cheeks flamed red. _Damn him for being so insightful!_ “It’s just… we are not married.”

  
”Married?” The conversation had taken a surprising and pleasing turn and Ororo looked him in the eyes for the first time since he had caught up with her.

“I would not want to disgrace you,” he said sincerely. _Was this man for real?_ Ororo briefly wondered. Yes, there definitely had been lost a lot on Earth…. Chivalry and honour seemed to have disappeared around the same time that money got the power over right and might ruled over truth.

“You won’t disgrace me,” Ororo smiled warmly and stroked his cheek. He caught her hand and softly kissed it, sending shivers down her spine. “Legolas, fate brought us together and may very well tear us apart again. One of us may not survive this journey…the future is hidden from us and we walk in uncertainty. Only this,” she softly kissed him before she drew back. “Only this we have now…that is real,” she touched the place of the human heart on his chest, not sure if an Elfish heart would be in the same place but sure he knew what the gesture meant because of his friendship with Aragorn.

“Are you certain about this? This is a big step. I do not wish to hurt you but I cannot deny I want to seek comfort, love and happiness in your embrace,” he admitted, stroking her cheek with his hand.

“I am certain. This may be the only moment we get; this may be all we get at all. Please…give me a memory worth remembering. A memory to warm me in death or alone in coming winters, whatever my future may hold,” she asked softly, tears forming in her eyes. He gently wiped her tears away with his fingers, his touch soft and loving.

“Lovely Goddess…then I will give you a memory of love,” he whispered softly and kissed her as he drew her down with him on the soft grass. The kiss deepened and she held him close. He began to plant kisses down her neck and she made a small noise of pleasure as his lips moved, lighting a trail of desire’s fire down her skin. She threw her head back as he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed the soft skin of her stomach. As she looked up she saw the trees gently move as they bent down to form shelter for them.

“You did that?” she gasped as the trees protected and shielded them, like a pearl in an oyster.

“The trees here are alive in a way. Though they do not speak they do sense emotions,” he explained softly as he drew her into another kiss. She put her arms around him; her hands touching the silk like long blond hair of his as she drew him close.

*Beloved, in all my years no one has ever made me feel the way you do. I love you…wife of my heart, * he mumbled against her breath, meaning every word. The Elfish words excited her and made her smile but she didn’t understand them though her encouraging moves made him believe she understood what was happening.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him, the taste of him…this was bliss…it was magical indeed. She hoped she would bring him as much pleasure as he was bringing her because this promised to be the best and most magical night of her life.


	14. Book 2: Chapter 2: Finding A Ray Of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Frodo move on

### Chapter 2: Finding A Ray Of Hope

“We are lost, aren’t we?” Sam asked as they had walked towards Mordor for days on end. The stony mountainside was hard beneath his bare feet, making him once again wish they could return to the Shire.

Sam eyed his friend worriedly. It wasn’t just the weather and the difficulty of their journey that worried him. He had noticed how the Ring was slowly killing his beloved friend. He had noticed how Frodo would take the Ring out at night, look at it like it was the most precious thing in the world and gently let his fingers run over it. The burden of the Ring was getting to Frodo, and weighing him down and Sam wished so badly he could help him ease that burden.

“Maybe we are,” Frodo admitted, looking out over the mountains that had begun to all look the same.

“I don’t think Gandalf meant for this to happen,” Sam said softly, grief at the fate of the wizard in his voice.

“He didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen,” Frodo agreed, his voice soft and sad. He missed his friend so much. He would know what to do; where to turn. Suddenly something moved at the edge of Frodo’s vision, startling him out of his thoughts.

“It’s him again; Gollum. He’s following us,” Sam turned around, instantly moving to a protective position in front of Frodo as he tried to spot the very fast moving Gollum with his eyes but he was already gone.

“He’s drawn to the Ring. He had the Ring for so many years. He’s bound to it,” Frodo said softly. Sam looked concerned at his friend but didn’t comment on the fact that his voice held more compassion and sadness than fear or hate towards the creature that had been crawling after them; totally under the influence of the Ring.

“It’s getting darker. We could rest here for the night and I’ll make us some supper,” Sam suggested and Frodo nodded absentminded. He was forming a plan…a plan that involved Gollum.

Night had fallen and the Hobbits were apparently asleep; Sam lying close to his friend to try and give him some warmth and protection. Gollum drew nearer, mumbling to himself of how the nasty Hobbits had stolen his Precious from him…such nasty little thieves! The Ring was his! He saw the Ring around Frodo’s neck...that little thief has stolen it from him…stolen it! Furious, Gollum reached for a small knife left out from the Hobbits’ supplies and he raised it high into the air; ready to drive it deep into Frodo’s chest. Suddenly Frodo’s eyes blinked and the bluest and most agonising eyes he had seen for a long time looked back at Gollum; no fear, no anger in them…only a pain filled understanding and sympathy. However another pair of eyes held neither as Sam moved quickly and had a rope around Gollum’s neck, violently tearing him off Frodo. Sam’s eyes were hard and cold, no sympathy or understanding in them at all…only disgust, distrust and anger.

“Don’t kill him, Sam,” Frodo asked as he too jumped up from his sleeping roll.

“I can just tie him up and leave him here,” Sam suggested, satisfied with that proposal.

  
”No, no! Please…take me with you,” Gollum pleaded, turning to Frodo for help, his eyes fixed on the Ring. Frodo’s eyes filled with understanding as Sam’s grew colder. Gollum didn’t resemble anything at all; he was grey skinned, big eyed, his back covered with scars, he didn’t have more than a few hairs on top of his head and was naked save a small shed of clothing covering his genitals. Nothing in his appearance was compelling and his mumbling and often groundless violent outbursts didn’t make it easier to like him. Though Frodo saw none of that; he saw his soul, saw how tortured and shattered it was…and he understood…he knew.

“We’ll take him with us.”

”He tried to kill you!” Sam protected, giving the rope a hard pull so Gollum was forced to move with him.

“I know the way to Mordor. A better way. Yes. I can take you there,” Gollum promised, his eyes still on the Ring. Frodo hadn’t taken the Ring from him, he reminded himself. It had been another Hobbit…that nasty thief Bilbo. He could help this little Hobbit and be near the Ring. Yes, yes…good plan.

“And murder us in our sleep?!” Sam questioned, turning to Frodo. Surely he could see it was madness to trust this ungodly creature.

“We take him with us. He can guide us,” Frodo decided, his eyes shadowed as he looked at Gollum. Would he become like that? Could he prevent it?

“But…” Sam protested.

“Nothing. Sam, make ready to leave,” Frodo cut him off, feeling the Ring tear in his soul in a way only Gollum would understand. Sam gave the end of Gollum’s rope to Frodo and began to pack everything up.

“Stupid fat Hobbit,” Gollum mumbled, his eyes shooting daggers at Sam. “No, no…they’re kind to me,” he instantly regretted his hate.

“Gollum, listen to me,” it was Frodo and Gollum turned to listen. “I know you were once called Smeagol. That part of you is still inside you and I need you to promise me to see us safely to Mordor…in return I’ll look after you,” Frodo promised. Gollum was thoughtful. It had been ages since anyone had called him Smeagol…. It felt…nice.

“I promise, master. I won’t let you down,” Gollum vowed. Frodo smiled at him though it was a sad smile, a forced smile. Then he cut Gollum’s rope and Gollum smiled warmly but surprised at him at this show of faith.

“I know you won’t,” he told him. He turned around to see Sam having packed everything up. “At least not intently…” Frodo mumbled as Sam handed him his bag pack and they began to move again, Sam shooting angry glances at Gollum, wishing the creature would disappear and leave Frodo alone for good. He didn’t trust him at all and he would be watching the creature closely…very closely. Nothing would harm Frodo as long as he lived, to that Sam vowed.

* * *

“I wonder if Frodo and Sam are alright,” Rogue said worried, as they were moving again, having left their little safe haven early in the morning.

Scott had almost had a heart attack when he had found Ororo and Legolas missing but as soon as the others had begun to awake they had returned, walking out of the group of trees nearby. Ororo had held a special glow around her and Rogue had smiled at her and embraced her while Scott had turned concern into a reprimand and had asked Ororo not to wander off again. Ororo had reassured him that both Legolas and her had been safe and careful. As soon as Legolas had heard their friends’ heartbeat change from sleep to awake they had come back.

“I’m sure they are. Sam will take good care of Frodo,” Scott reassured her, his thoughts returning to the present.

“Hmm. I’m still not at all happy that we’re letting the fate of this world and our lives lie in the hands of a child. I can’t see why Frodo himself shouldn’t be tempted by the Ring, use it and bang!” Logan clashed his hands together to amplify his point, “We’re all dead.”

“I guess we don’t know that but we just have to believe that Frodo is strong enough…or maybe more that the love that exists between him and Sam is strong enough to keep such dark thoughts away,” Scott said though he frowned. Logan was right; he couldn’t see why the Ring should be any safer in Hobbit hands than anyone else’s. Maybe in Elven hands he could buy it because the Elves already had so much, had lived so long, had so much knowledge…. there would be few things with which to tempt them.

“Talking about that…. I’m a bit curious as to what kind of relationship Sam and him share anyway. Is Sam his friend, his servant, his…?” Rogue began curiously, recalling the pure love between the two Hobbits.

“His dog?” Logan suggested sweetly.

“Ugh! Logan,” Rogue mock hit him on the arm and he grinned and picked her up against her laughing protests, span her around and kissed the top of her hair before setting her down again.

“I do not think we have the right to make assumptions, judgements or try and analyse their relationship. The love between them is clear and they are happy with each other. That’s really all that matters,” Scott said, thinking of Jean and how much he loved her.

“Yes. Love between any two consenting adults can never be wrong if freely given and received,” Rogue agreed, her thoughts dark as she thought of different laws the Senate had been about to vote on back home in regard to forbidding human-mutant weddings and forbidding mutants to wed as anti-mutant protestors claimed only humans should be allowed to use the word marriage. The law had already been passed in a handful of other nations in her world. But like same sex couples they offered mutant and human-mutant couples a ‘civil union’ instead…for now at least. If this freedom and basic human right could be taken from the gay minority without anyone defending their rights she doubted anyone would jump to the defence of her own minority group which were often called abominations to God and a threat worse than terrorism. She feared that if first this law went through more would follow. This latest law suggestion had made the mutant community feel even more discriminated against, even more fearful for their rights than before and they now had even less faith that there was any justice left in their world.

“Speakin’ of that…any thoughts on that dream you had yet?” Logan asked Scott, his voice slightly worried. Scott had told his fellow X-men that he had dreamed of a Phoenix and of it turning into Jean and she had killed him.

“Why should it mean anything? I just miss her and then with our dangerous journey and all….” His words didn’t even convince himself.

“Boromir told us he had come to Rivendell because he had dreamt of the Ring. This world seems to work on myths and fantasy and dreams as leads or as forewarning is among those things,” Rogue warned, her voice worried.

“As the Phoenix Jeanie had amazing powers…. imagine that kind of power in this world, with the magic this place has….” Logan thought out loud.

“Jean came back,” Scott protested, trying to forget his beloved’s visit to the dark side so to speak and misuse of her powers.

“Because of the professor and because of you but he isn’t here and if she kills you….” Rogue couldn’t even bring herself to think it but it had to be said as they were all thinking the same thing.

“She won’t kill me. She isn’t even here,” Scott protested, his voice leaving no room for argument but inside he had his doubts. Jean was back on Earth, safe and herself…she wasn’t here…in Middle-Earth…as the powerful Phoenix…. she wasn’t…was she?

* * *

“Can you keep up, Dwarf?” Legolas asked as he ran back from his position next to Aragorn in the front to see to Gimli who ran last, breathing heavily. The other strangers walked between them while Ororo had flown ahead to keep an eye out for any approaching danger.

“I…wasn’t…meant…for this,” Gimli protested, gasping for air. Legolas’ eyes softened and he slowed his pace to walk next to Gimli. They walked for some time, neither speaking. Elves and Dwarfs had never held high opinions about each other. Elves believed Dwarfs to be selfish creatures who lived in the dark, filthy and greedy creatures that cared for nothing but themselves. The Dwarfs believed Elves to be more concerned with their hair and themselves than anything else; in short vain, beautiful, egoistic and cold hearted creatures who forgot that not everyone lived forever.

“So…you are the prince from Mirkwood?” Gimli finally asked though he knew the answer but he didn’t know what else to say. They rarely spoke anything but insults at each other. His breathing had returned to normal now as Legolas had slowed his pace and they walked together to catch up with the ever fit human King.

“Yes.” Legolas searched for something more to say. “My heart bled for the Dwarfs in Moria. Your pain must have been great.”

“My pain is no greater than yours must be…knowing the Elves are leaving this land…leaving you here alone,” Gimli spoke softly.

Legolas looked surprised at him. “You know of this?”

“I do. I hope that should our mission succeed your people will return to this land…or never leave should it be before then.”

“Thank you.” Legolas’s voice was warm and sincere. “I wish I could say something to ease your pain about the loss of your people but not even the Elves have the power to raise the dead.”

“They live on in me. As long as I live and remember them…the Dwarfs live still,” Gimli said, his voice strong as he fought his pain down. This wasn’t the place and time to mourn though he began to wonder if there ever would be time to do so.

“Then…. instead of death join me in Valinor so the Dwarfs never die. Let that be your comfort as we move on, in our further battles. Let any bad blood between us be forgotten as we share this common pain and loneliness,” Legolas said warmly and looked down into Gimli’s eyes. The Dwarf fought tears but Legolas’ keen eyesight saw them anyway but he had spent enough time with Aragorn to know not to comment on it.

“Words will never be enough to say what this means to me,” Gimli said softly. His race wouldn’t die with him; their legend wouldn’t die with him. He felt as if a stone had been lifted from his heart.

“You have been…a great help to the Fellowship,” Legolas said and smiled.

“Thank you, master Elf. So have you,” Gimli grinned.

Silence again.

“And…thank you for saving my life in Moria,” Gimli then said, almost as an afterthought though his eyes spoke of how much that had meant to him.

“No thanks necessary… between brothers in arms,” Legolas said warmly. Gimli smiled and shook his hand as if they had now met for the first time which in a way they had.

“Brothers,” Gimli agreed, his eyes and voice warm.

“Legolas. Come!” Aragorn’s voice reached them.

“We run together,” Legolas said and started to run lightly over the plains, Gimli doing his best to keep up.

“Go on, Elf. I will catch up,” Gimli shooed him forward and Legolas nodded, speeded up and reached Aragorn before Gimli had come halfway.

“Elves!” Gimli shook his head but a smile tug at his lips as he hurried on so he could see why Aragorn had called Legolas to him.


	15. Book 2: Chapter 3: Meeting Eomer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship meet Eomer

### Chapter 3: Meeting Eomer

“I see many riders approaching,” Ororo said as she landed beside Aragorn, concern in her voice. Though the riders appeared human she wasn’t sure if that was enough to make them friendly.

“Did they see you?” Aragorn asked, trying to spot any riders in the distance but the plains were bare and his eyesight not sharp enough to spot anyone.

“I don’t think so unless they’re Elves. I flew high,” she explained then she frowned as she added, “You should be able to see them within a few minutes.”

“Anything wrong, ‘Ro?” Scott yelled from behind Aragorn.

“A group of riders coming this way,” she replied, rising her voice for him to hear.

Scott, Rogue and Logan moved closer to her and Aragorn, trying to spot the mentioned riders.

“Legolas. Come,” Aragorn yelled over his shoulder as he saw small figures in the distance. The figures began to melt into riders.

“Great. With our luck it’ll be Orcs,” Logan complained, mentally getting ready for a battle.

“Riders,” Legolas said unnecessary as he reached Aragorn.

“Can you make out the banner?” Aragorn asked as the riders drew nearer, one of them holding a banner in his right hand.

“Yes. It’s the Royal banner of Rohan.” Relief was clear in Legolas’ voice.

“I take it that’s a good thing?” Scott guessed as he saw the relieved look on Aragorn’s face at this news.

“Rohan is like Gondor a human Kingdom. Though not allies there is no bad blood between Rivendell and Rohan or Mirkwood and Rohan,” Legolas explained to them.

“What about Rohan and Gondor?” Logan asked, remembering Boromir’s beloved homeland.

“They were allies once but since the King took a new adviser Rohan hasn’t brought Gondor any help when the Orcs started crossing Gondor’s borders…” Legolas began.

“So obviously they’re not on the best of terms,” Rogue finished for him.

Gimli reached them about the same time as the riders did. The riders made an impressive sight, dressed in chain mail, thin leather armour and helmets, even to the members of the Fellowship who were more used to such a sight.

“Riders of Riddermark,” Aragorn greeted the riders. However the greeting didn’t have the intended effect. Suddenly they were surrounded, the riders’ lances pointing straight at them.

“I thought you said these were friends of yours?” Logan growled, pushing Rogue behind him and popped his claws as he sneered at the riders. Rogue put a calming hand on his shoulder to reassure him she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“They are!” Aragorn insisted.

“Then I’ll hate to meet your enemies,” Scott mumbled, his right hand going to his glasses, alert for any indication that the riders would attack. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli held their weapons ready but not raised. Ororo let a small ball of lightning form in her right hand but didn’t raise it.

A man who seemed to be in charge rode toward them. His armour seemed more elaborate than the others and he sat tall and proud on his horse.

“What business do you have in the Riddermark?” he demanded to know. He eyes swept over Logan, Rogue, Scott and Ororo. “What strange creatures are these?” he nodded towards Scott, Logan and Ororo who were obviously strangers while Rogue could pass to be from Gondor or Rohan, her only difference her thin bone structure which were more fitting an Elf and then her gloves which no ladies in the human kingdoms wore.

“I am Aragorn. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king,” Aragorn insisted.

“The King hasn’t been himself lately,” the rider admitted and jumped off his horse. He pulled off his helmet to reveal long golden locks, a tired but handsome and aristocratic face and a very well built and strong body. He looked some years younger than Aragorn; closer to Scott’s age. “Those you see here,” he nodded towards his riders, “are those who remain loyal to Rohan and for that we are banished.” The pain in the warrior’s voice was clear as he told them this.

“Maybe you could lower your weapons and we can exchange sob stories later?” Logan suggested sarcastically, seeing no reason to doubt these people were going to attack them at any moment.

The warrior’s eyes got hard. “How dare you?! Who are you? What are your names?”

  
”Give us yours and you shall have ours,” Gimli replied calmly, not showing any fear for the warrior or his band of men who clearly had them outnumbered and outgunned.

“For that insult I should have your head, Dwarf,” the warrior hissed angrily and suddenly even more weapons were aimed at Gimli as if that was possible.

Quicker than the human eye could follow an arrow had been aimed straight at the golden warrior.

“You would be dead before the stroke fell,” Legolas promised darkly, his voice certain and his aim true.

“Hmm…let’s not get carried away,” Rogue tried to ease the sudden very tense mood and tried to push past Logan but he refused to move an inch so she sighed and remained behind him, not about to comment on the illogic of Logan’s primal protective instincts by pointing out putting her behind him would help little when they were surrounded.

“No one dies here today!” Ororo said with strong certainty and her feet began to slowly lift off the ground but she stopped about a meter up, the lightning bolt in her hand glowing like a small sun. Loud gasps of surprise and fear went through the riders and they barely held their horses in place.

“What is that…thing? Another of Sauron’s allies?” the golden warrior demanded to know, no fear but suspicion in his voice as he with his sword pointed to Ororo. Suddenly a red beam shot out from Scott’s eyes and cut the warrior’s sword in half.

“She is a woman and my friend and you will address her with the proper respect she deserves,” Scott said calmly, putting his glasses back on.

“We are neither spies nor your enemies. There’s no need for this hostility,” Ororo reassured them and landed again, dissolving her lightning bolt. Following her lead Scott lowered his hand but kept ready. “Logan,” Scott reached for him, laying a hand on his arm.

“No way,” Logan denied, knowing what Scott wanted of him.

“Logan,” a warning edge was in Scott’s tone.

“Yeah, well…. I can take them anyway,” Logan gave in and withdrew his claws but didn’t lower his hands as he cast the riders and in particular the golden warrior murderous looks.

“Legolas,” Aragorn laid his hand on Legolas’ arrow and the Elf let him lower the weapon for him.

“Lower your weapons,” the warrior ordered of his men as he saw the others’ actions. His men did as bid. “I am Eomer, nephew to king Théoden, banished from Rohan under threat of death,” the warrior admitted and Logan saw that the man was younger than he had first thought. The pain in his voice was clear as he remembered his banishment and how he had been forced to leave all he knew behind.

“I am Aragorn. This is Legolas of the realm of Mirkwood and Gimli of Moria,” he pointed to each one in turn. Legolas gave a traditional Elven greeting with his hand to his forehead while Gimli merely nodded. “The others are new allies; Scott their leader, Ororo the white-haired woman, Rogue the lovely lady there and the man before her is her husband, Logan the warrior,” he introduced them.

“A pleasure,” Eomer said and nodded at each of them in turn. “Though I am curious…I have never seen such skin colour on a human,” his eyes swept over Ororo, clear admiration in them, and Legolas barely held back his urge to raise his bow again. “…or such abilities. Are your friends wizards?”

“No. They come from a land far away,” Aragorn explained.

“Try a galaxy far, far away,” Rogue mumbled and drew amused smiles from her fellow X-men while the others merely looked slightly confused, not understanding what she meant.

“We’re looking for some Hobbits,” Scott broke in, not wanting Eomer to know too much. He didn’t see any reason to trust him; having been held at gunpoint didn’t do much to build up trust.

“They would have looked like children to your eyes. We’re tracking some Uruk-hai who took them,” Aragorn explained.

“Uruk-hai?” Rogue asked with a frown. Were they not tracking Orcs?

“Orcs,” Gimli briefly explained, not wanting to confuse her further with details of the difference between Uruk-hai and Orcs.

“Oh.”  
  


”We battled some Uruk-hai not far from here,” Eomer admitted.

“Did you see them?” Ororo asked eagerly.

“No but if they had been there…” the warrior looked sad. “Sorry. We killed all alive,” the warrior admitted, sounding tired of the thought of all that battling and death that had haunted his land lately.

“Oh, God!” Rogue breathed in sharply. Logan gathered her in a calming embrace to try and ease her sadness as she fought not to cry, knowing if she did she would have given Merry and Pippin up for dead.

“It is over that way,” Eomer pointed to the west. “It will take no more than a few hours to walk. You should be able to see it by the smoke as we burned the bodies.”

“We have failed them and Boromir then,” Scott said softly, his voice sad.

“There is still hope,” Aragorn insisted. There had to be.

“I hope you find your friends well,” Eomer said though his tone of voice said he doubted they would. He got back up on his horse and pulled his helmet back on. He gestured to some of his men and four horses were given to them. “I hope they will bring you safely to where you need to go and will bring you greater fortune than their previous masters,” he told them as the men handed the rains to Legolas and Aragorn. He then greeted Aragorn and Legolas and rode away with his riders.

“By the Goddess…I hope they’re still alive. They’re only children,” Ororo said softly and the other X-men nodded, not sure what else to say or add.

Aragorn handed a horse to Logan and one to Scott and all the X-men were suddenly grateful that Xavier had a large stable and they had all learned how to ride. Rogue got up behind Logan and Gimli got with some difficulty and finally some help from Aragorn up behind Legolas. Ororo flew beside them as Aragorn got up on his own horse.

“Let’s go,” Aragorn ordered and they began to ride west. No one spoke, all hoping and praying they would find their friends well but all fearing the worst.


	16. Book 2: Chapter 4: White Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship meet the White Wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the quality of the picture; it is a photo of how the picture looks like in the printed zine as I don't seem to have this artwork diginally. Sorry about that but I found the artwork too beautiful not to include.

### Chapter 4: White Wizard

“This is it,” Scott said unnecessarily as they reached the still smoking pile of burned bodies. The fire was out on the open plains but a little further ahead a dark forest began. The stench of burned flesh was sickeningly sweet and made him want to vomit. He could see that his fellow X-men had the same issues while the three others seemed to be used to this kind of primitive and barbaric battle tactics.

They all got off their horses and walked to stand before the burned corpses. Logan had his arm around Rogue who buried her head by his shoulder, crying softly and refusing to look at the mutilated corpses. If nothing else the riders had been thorough, Scott thought as he looked around. All the bodies had been burned and some of the Orcs’ heads had been put up on sticks as warnings. Crude but efficient. On a strategic level Scott admired Eomer’s tactic.

“What now?” Logan asked softly, stroking Rogue’s hair in calming strokes. His voice was purposely low and soft as to not add to Rogue’s stress.

“We have to know if they…if they’re among the dead,” Ororo answered for Scott, coming to stand between Scott and Legolas as they all gathered around the pile of burned corpses, horrified yet unable to turn from the grotesque view in front of them.

“How do you propose we do that? Shall we go through the ashes?” Logan wanted to know, his own sorrow at losing the children, Hobbits, he mentally corrected himself, made him easily agitated.

“Just that,” Aragorn agreed and without further ado began to search the ashes for clues, bending on one knee and running his fingers over the ashes and Gimli bent to help him.

“Oh, what the Hell…” Scott mumbled. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen dead people before. And this was Orcs…just Orcs. He began to search the ashes as well.

Logan cast Scott a look but then sighed. He carefully drew back from Rogue’s almost fanatic embrace. “Stay here. I’ll look,” Logan asked softly of her and she nodded, fighting back tears, knowing she would vomit if she was forced to touch the ashes of corpses. Just the thought was terrible. Logan began to search the ashes as well after he was sure Rogue was all right despite her shock and grief.

“Legolas, look out for enemies,” Scott asked of him without turning. Legolas nodded, gave Ororo’s hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes soft and filled with warmth before he reluctantly let their hands fall apart as he walked to stand close by, looking out over the open plains to look for approaching Orcs. Ororo watched him for a few seconds, a smile spreading over her lips. He was the most amazing, beautiful and elegant creature she had ever met and just knowing he cared for her made her want to smile all the time. With effort she tore herself free from her sweet daydreaming of Legolas by turning around and looking at the smoking pile of corpses. A sharper wakeup to cruel reality would be hard to find and her smile died at once. She called a wind to her and moved the ashes around, praying that she wouldn’t find anything.

She had almost begun to believe she wouldn’t find anything when something frighteningly familiar caught her eye. “I see something,” Ororo called, pain evident in her voice. Aragorn and Scott looked to see what she had found. Aragorn reached over and picked up the object she had uncovered. It was one of the Hobbits’ small daggers, darkened by the flames.

“May the Goddess protect them and grant them peace,” Ororo said softly, tears running down her cheeks. They had all known this would happen yet still it felt like a slap to the face. Legolas gazed back at them and made a motion with his hand and bowed his head for their lost friends before his attention had to return to his outpost. Gimli stood still, silent in his grief, abandoning his own search of the ashes.

“I can’t believe it! We’ve raced through half of this fuckin’ country only for the kids to be killed by our own allies!” Logan bummed, anger and pain in his voice as he rose, carefully cleaning his dirtied hands on his pants before he went and held Rogue tightly against him, drawing comfort from her nearness.

“Talk about irony,” Scott admitted softly, wishing his mutation allowed him to cry for the Hobbits. He felt guilty for their deaths; guilty that he hadn’t been able to do as Boromir had asked…he had failed them all. As always Scott felt guilty when things turned out badly and even if there was nothing he could have done to prevent it then he was determined to mentally beat himself up about it. He expected much from others but he expected nothing short of perfection from himself.

“They weren’t killed. I see them here,” Aragorn’s voice brought hope back to the others’ eyes as Aragorn looked at the marks left on the ground. He moved away from the burned corpses and went down on hands and knees, searching the ground. “They were here, they fought to get free. In the fight one of them lost his dagger,” Aragorn revealed as he read the signs the marks left on the ground told him. As he continued to try and recreate the battle he moved further and further away from the dying fire and the others went after him, all holding their breaths in hope. Legolas and Gimli came last, taking the horses with them.

“So? Did they make it?” Logan asked impatiently and Rogue looked hopeful at the King, standing with Logan’s arm around her waist.

“They made it through the battle. They escaped into the woods,” Aragorn said with relief as he pointed to the beginning wood which they now stood just outside.

“They live!” Rogue smiled and grinned relieved. Logan hugged her in triumph and smiled as well. Ororo smiled at Scott who smiled back until he saw that their new allies didn’t seem to share the X-men’s happiness.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, getting a bad feeling about it.

“This is a dark forest. No one dares to enter it,” Aragorn explained, frowning in concern.

“Wonderful,” Logan said sarcastically, trying to cover his disappointment that the Hobbits could still be lost. “Just what we need…evil forests.”

“Strange forest or not they are our friends and we’re going after them. This time I’ll believe they’re alive until I see their corpses with my own eyes,” Scott declared and began to walk into the forest with determined steps. The X-men followed him and with a look at each other the others went after them.

“I sense something,” Legolas said as they had moved deeper into the forest.

“When don’t you sense something? Give it a rest already,” Logan complained, his voice low and holding no real heat just an irritation with the situation in general. Rogue who walked beside him smiled slightly and took his hand in hers to try and comfort him for which he gave her a grateful and warm smile.

“No, he’s right. I sense something as well,” Ororo warned them, trying to watch all angles at once.

“What is it?” Scott demanded to know.

“This forest…it’s…” Ororo searched for words, not sure how to explain.

“It is alive,” Legolas finished for her and she smiled gratefully at him to which he gave a soft smile back.

“Alive? What do you mean alive?” Logan demanded to know, feeling uneasy at the mere thought. He looked around and popped his claws as Gimli raised his axe, ready for an attack. The forest gave warning and angry sounds.

“Logan, stand down,” Scott quickly ordered, moving to grab his hand to get him to lower it.

“Gimli, lower your axe,” Aragorn asked of him and the Dwarf did so. With a look at Scott and then Gimli Logan withdrew his claws.

“Are you looking for the Hobbits?” A voice suddenly sounded through the forest. That voice…it sounded familiar. Scott frowned, trying to recall whom it reminded him of. Everyone took up battle positions just in case; this journey had painfully proved one never could be too careful.

“Yes. Have you seen them?” Scott answered, his right hand on his glasses.

“They passed through here. They are quite safe,” the voice assured them but no one let down their guard and despite the pang of hope and relief the words brought no one dared to believe the truth of them.

“Show yourself,” Aragorn demanded, his hand on his sword handle.

“If you insist.”

  
Suddenly a bright and blinding light appeared before them and began to mould into a man. A seemly old human man, dressed in long white robes, with white hair and beard. A beautiful long white staff in his right hand. It was…Gandalf!

“Gandalf!” Everyone said the name at once, some with awe, some with respect…the X-men mostly with disbelief. Legolas went to his knees before the wizard, Gimli bowed his head and Aragorn smiled widely before he went to embrace his old friend.

“You live!” the King said happily as the two men embraced. Gandalf smiled at him as he drew back.

“Evidently.”

  
”Not that I’m not happy you’re alive,” Scott said as he shook Gandalf’s hand with a smile, “but how can this be?”

“I fought my battle and won but I was dying. However, I knew that there was still need for me,” Gandalf explained.

“That makes no sense whatsoever but not much you guys say does,” Logan said and grinned. “Good to have you back, old man,” he shook Gandalf’s hand.

“I see now why Legolas respects you so much,” Ororo said warmly and embraced Gandalf.

“Thank you,” the wizard said as she drew back.

“You’re not dead!” Rogue said joyously, seeing this more than anything as a symbol of hope as she embraced Gandalf as well. “You’re not dead,” her voice was happy as she kept repeating that as if to remind herself that it was really true.

“No, I am not,” Gandalf’s voice had gone soft and he raised his hand to stroke her cheek in the loving manner a father would his daughter.

“No!” Scott and Logan yelled at the same time but too late. Gandalf’s hand touched Rogue’s bare skin. Gandalf stiffened and he began to glow. The glow began to spread from his hand still on her face to Rogue’s cheek and then through her body. A wordless scream was frozen on Rogue’s lips as she began to suck the life and powers out of Gandalf. Logan jumped forward and tore Rogue away from the wizard, making her fall to the ground with him, she landing in his lap.

“Got you!” Logan embraced her, trying to get his heartbeat under control.

“You alright?” Scott asked Rogue worriedly and she nodded.

“I’m fine. I feel fine…In fact I feel better than I have in a long time,” Rogue stilled his fears and smiled at Ororo’s worried face to calm her as she had come to stand beside Scott, looking worriedly down at her.

“Are you alright as well?” Scott turned to Gandalf who appeared to be fine though he leaned on his staff a little.

“I’m fine,” the wizard assured him.

“Okay then.” He wasn’t sure what had happened…yet but he would figure it out, Scott thought as his red gaze went from Rogue to Gandalf. In their happiness at finally having some good news and the amazement at having a dead man return to life they had all forgotten the differences which had existed between them but now as the emotions of the moment began to die out his feeling of distrust towards Gandalf, though lessened, returned to him.

“You said the Hobbits are safe?” Ororo asked, needing to confirm it. Now that she had confirmed Rogue was all right her concern returned to the Hobbits.

“Yes. They are with the Ents and will be well taken care of. They are probably the safest of us all,” Gandalf calmed her.

“Then we didn’t fail Boromir. His Little Ones are safe,” Scott drew a relieved breath though his guilt didn’t fully leave him. That they were alive was no one’s earning but the Hobbits themselves. He should have taken better care of them. He didn’t know how but somehow he should have. They were just children. However these Ents were they deserved thanks for taking care of them.

“We should move on then,” Aragorn reminded them as Scott helped Rogue to her feet so Logan could get up.

“We must go to Rohan and seek help,” Gandalf decided and led them all out of the forest and back to their horses.

Scott looked from their four horses and then toward Gandalf. “You can take my horse. I’ll walk,” Scott offered, no matter what else he felt he didn’t want the older man to exhaust himself.

“We need to make great speed,” Gandalf warned.

  
”I’ll carry Scott with me,” Ororo offered.

“Surely this will strain you,” Legolas voiced his concerns, looking worryingly at her.

“No, I’ve flown with Scott before. It will be a strain but I can handle it,” Ororo reassured him and leaned in to steal a quick kiss from him, their eyes warm and caring as they held each other in a beam of love. She didn’t notice Gandalf’s disapproving look at the kiss but Scott did and it annoyed him. Ororo was his friend and he wanted her to take whatever happiness she could when she had the opportunity to do so: he wouldn’t let the wizard ruin that. Though how could he prevent it? Legolas obviously held the wizard in high regard and would most likely follow his advice should he give it. Besides, the wizard had proven that he wasn’t just hard to kill; he was immortal and obviously not human. All in all the odds weren’t in his favour. His best hope was that Gandalf kept his worries about Legolas’ love life to himself.

“You need not burden yourself,” Gandalf said and smiled. “Shadowfax, come to me,” he called and before their eyes an endlessly beautiful white horse appeared and came to Gandalf.

“The master of horses,” Legolas breathed in awe as Gandalf went up on the horse and the others got up on their own horses. Rogue rode with Logan as before and Ororo flew closely beside the horse that carried Legolas and Gimli.

As they began to ride out and toward Rohan Logan rode his horse up beside Scott’s and both slowed their speed to insure they were the last ones following Gandalf’s lead to grant them some privacy.

“What do you think of all this?” he nodded toward Gandalf who rode in the lead to indicate of whom he was speaking.

“I think Gandalf is a very powerful man, obviously not human…” Scott began.

“Obviously,” Logan agreed.

“Everyone seems to hold him in high regard, from Elves to magical animals, “he nodded toward Gandalf’s horse. “ I also think he has the best of intentions.”

“Isn’t that what the road to hell is paved with?” Logan asked softly, one hand holding Rogue’s right one closer against his abdomen as she pressed close to his back.

“Yes. I have no doubt he’s a good man but as you said earlier he’s an idealist and though he would never sacrifice Frodo or Aragorn to see his goals fulfilled, I’m not so sure about us. Besides, I’m pretty sure Gandalf touched Rogue on purpose, not to harm her but…I’m not sure why but I doubt he had forgotten he isn’t supposed to touch her. He seems far too intelligent for that,” Scott admitted and frowned. An intelligent man with hidden plans…always a dangerous combination when not on your side. If nothing else Magneto had taught them all that lesson well.

“Yeah, well…we better keep an eye out for our Magneto look-alike here. Luckily there are no Statues of Liberty in this place,” Logan nodded toward Gandalf with dark humour and both Scott and Rogue laughed, having noticed the vague similarity in looks between the two men. Thinking about it Scott wondered if not some of his distrust in the wizard was due to the man’s uncanny similarity to one of his worst enemies.

After all this trip was hard enough in itself and wasn’t made easier when they didn’t even have a common trust between them. Scott caught himself feeling guilty that he was silently cursing Gandalf for his bad timing; they had just now found a common ground with Legolas and Aragorn and now this….

“I guess we just have to be careful. I don’t think he’s as bad as you make him,” Rogue voiced her opinion.

“You think we’re being paranoid?” Logan asked in a teasing tone of voice while Scott fought back the dark voice in his mind that asked if Rogue’s defence of Gandalf was due to whatever his touch had done to her.

“No, I **know** you’re paranoid. Both of you,” she answered and smiled. The two men smiled as well but the fears they had uncovered in their conversation wouldn’t leave their minds.


	17. Book 2: Chapter 5: In Edoras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The followship arrive in Edoras

### Chapter 5: In Edoras

Scott looked around in the large palace in Edoras, the capital of Rohan. They had arrived in the city some hours earlier. It was very different from Rivendell, or any other place they had travelled to so far for that matter, yet not without its charm. Its style and what he had so far gathered about the way things were done here it reminded him a lot of an Earth Western kingdom like for example Britain, in the Middle Ages. There were obvious differences of course; the magic they spoke of here wasn’t just in stories, it was real.

Having time to sit back and relax, his thoughts went through the day’s events. They had arrived at the palace of Rohan after several days of luckily uneventful travel. The guards had forced them to disarm, which hadn’t disturbed the X-men that much, as their true powers couldn’t be seen or taken from them. Though they by now had become used to magic and strange things occurring, what happened next had still shocked them. King Théoden who had greeted them had seemed several 100 years old and had looked like a living corpse. Moreover, his actions had obviously been controlled by a small, snakelike man; apparently the King’s adviser. With an annoyed wave of her hand Ororo had thrown the adviser across the room and away from the King. Gandalf had used the distraction to begin a kind of almost Christianlike exorcism to help the King while suddenly everyone else was occupied fighting the King’s guards who had attacked them on orders from the adviser. Again Gandalf had showed to be much more than an old man as he ended the spell and freed the King; granting him a total transformation back into an ordinary looking older man. Despite Logan and Scott’s fears, the King had been immensely grateful for his release and had immediately banished his advisor despite Logan’s loudly voiced wish to be allowed to kill him. He had turned out to be quite friendly and had invited them to stay at his palace. After having showered the old fashioned way with a large wooden tub that servants filled with water from outdoor pumps they had gotten clean clothes from servants from the palace and were now eating dinner together in a large hall in the palace and trying to figure out what to do next. The hall was filled with many wooden tables and the Fellowship had been seated at the most impressive table together with Rohan’s royal family. The King seemed reluctant to go to war against Sauron though his niece, introduced to them as Eowyn, sister of Eomer, seemed to support more direct action. However, Scott soon realised that his comparison to Earth in the Middle Ages wasn’t half bad because apparently the Princess had no real power and her opinion mattered little.

“Open war is upon you whether you want to risk it or not. Saruman **will** come,” Aragorn warned the King, his voice calm but it held an edge of urgency. Gandalf, who sat beside king Théoden, had been silent through most of the debate. He only spoke if he wanted to support Aragorn and now he nodded to show his support at the words that had just been spoken. Scott had a feeling Gandalf let Aragorn lead the debate as a kind of preparation to when he was made King of Gondor; quite clever of the old wizard, Scott had to give him that but then he had never doubted that the man was as intelligent as he was powerful.

The King looked thoughtful after hearing Aragorn’s warning and turned to Legolas, who sat by Aragorn’s right with Ororo beside him.

“Will your people help us? Make an alliance as we once had?” Before Legolas had time to formulate a reply the King shook his head. “No, of course not.” He turned back to look at Aragorn who was also seated at his table, “You see, my lord Aragorn, unlike you we have no ties to Rivendell or the Elven world. Even our human neighbours of Gondor will not assist us. We are alone.”

Aragorn broke into more arguments but Scott had lost interest in a debate, which had now lasted for hours. His eyes found Logan’s who sat across from him. Logan just shrugged his shoulders in a ‘don’t care’ attitude and returned his attention to his wife who sat on his lap. Looking from Logan and Rogue’s wild flame of love to the dignified small touches and smiles of a steady flame that Ororo and Legolas shared Scott smiled at them for their apparent happiness. Yet the tender scene made his heart ache for Jean, and also for Ororo for she would one day have to part from the man at her side. He hoped his friend kept that in mind and didn’t grow too fond of the beautiful Elven prince.

“I hear you spoke with my brother, Eomer. Is he well?”

Suddenly the otherwise quiet princess who sat beside him spoke up, her voice and face worried as she looked at him. Scott returned his attention to her. She was a beautiful young woman with long golden hair and delicate in build. She was dressed in a long white gown and her long hair hang loose. She was in short the perfect image of a typical fairytale princess.

Scott smiled reassuringly to her. “He looked to be in perfect health, Your Highness.”

Eowyn drew a deep breath of relief. “Thank the Valar! I was very concerned for him.”

“May I ask what happened? Your brother spoke briefly of having been banished,” Scott asked, keeping his voice polite yet he knew knowledge was power and he needed to gather as much as he possibly could about the politics of this world in case he should later need it.

“Wormtongue, my uncle’s advisor, was working for Saruman and my brother knew this and tried to get my uncle to go to war against him,” Eowyn explained, her eyes shinning hate for Wormtongue. “He had my uncle banish him but before he did so he had his men beat him,” she explained, her voice softening, becoming sad and compassionate. “You see, my brother is very protective of me and Wormtongue made foul advances to me which he stopped.”

“I am sorry for your brother’s pain and the ordeal you must have gone through,” Scott said sincerely.

She nodded her thanks as she went on, “Some of the servants loyal to me and not Wormtongue told me that Wormtongue had had my brother beaten and not just banished. I found him barely able to walk on the way to the stables,” she told him, her eyes aflame with hate for her brother’s attackers and compassion for her brother. “Were I a man I would have killed his attackers!” She said hotly but then added more calmly, “As it is I am a woman so I did the best I could. I bandaged his wounds and packed bags for him. I helped him on our best horse and sent him out of town so he could be safely out of Wormtongue’s reach. I then let the officers and soldiers near the palace who I knew had remained loyal to Eomer and not Wormtongue know where he was in hopes they would aid him and they rode to him.”

“They were with him,” Scott let her now, awed by her daring and intelligence. “He fights still for Rohan, slaying any enemy he come across,” he went on, unconsciously falling into the same speech pattern many of the people here had.

“I am grateful I could ease his burden,” she said with a smile and he smiled back until a thought stuck him and his face became grim and serious.

“We should have kept Wormtongue. Maybe we could have made him tell us about Saruman’s plans.”

Eowyn shook her head slightly. “Saruman is a very powerful wizard and also quite intelligent. I doubt it would have mattered much.” She paused before she added, “Though it wouldn’t have hurt to try.”

“No, but I understand why your uncle needed him out of his sight.”

Eowyn nodded grimly, a shiver running through her. Wormtongue had manipulated her uncle, used him as a pawn. It was not easy for a proud and strong man like her uncle to accept that and he certainly would not wish any reminders of it. “Now that my uncle is himself again I look forth to seeing my brother,” Eowyn said with warmth in her voice, purposely changing the subject.

“It might take some time to get a message to him; the distances here are waste but I am sure he misses you greatly,” Scott said kindly.

They sat in silence for awhile and Scott thought this was the end of their talk. A pang of disappointment at the thought hit him since he had enjoyed speaking with her. He turned back to observe the debates going on around the table as well as casting amused looks towards Merry and Pippin who were dancing on the floor some distance away, getting into the more and more lively atmosphere the large mugs of beer provided.

“I have heard rumours you travelled with Boromir of Gondor. Is this true?” Eowyn spoke again, curious.

“You heard true, Your Highness. Unfortunately he was lost in battle,” Scott admitted, turning back to face her. Sadness was clear in his voice and eyes as he remembered Boromir. He hadn’t known the other man for that long but he had still been a good friend and a brother in arms.

“My brother often spoke of Boromir and their battles together against the increasing number of Orcs crossing into our lands before our two nations grew apart. He held him in high regard. He will be missed,” Eowyn said softly and laid a comforting hand on his arm. Scott briefly let his free hand cover her smaller whiter one since he had been outdoors so much lately before he let his hand fall away again.

“Yes, he will.”

A short silence then Scott spoke again, “Did you ever meet Boromir?”  
  


“I had the pleasure once, yes. It was at his short-lived marriage to Lady Elia. At one time there were even talk of a marriage arranged between him and me to bring our houses and countries closer together,” she admitted.

“What did you think of that?” Scott was a little taken back to hear that arranged marriages were apparently common here but when he thought about it he shouldn’t have been…it did after all fit the time.

Eowyn looked thoughtful for a while as she thought about his question. “Boromir loved his country above anything else save his brother. He would have been a faithful and good husband and during his short marriage he in indeed seem to have been a fine husband. I am also sure he would have been a good father had his wife been able to bear him any children before her death but he was a warrior first and a lover second and he was a man true to his time and the traditions of his country. The lady Elia seemed content with this. I am not sure I would have been,” she finally said, thoughtfully.

“That was a very honest response.”

  
”You asked me a question; why should I not answer it honestly, my lord?” she asked with a smile.

Scott smiled back. “True.”

“Princess Eowyn, I hear you’re good with a sword,” Rogue took the opportunity to break in.

Eowyn smiled; she hadn’t earned the title of Shield Maiden of Rohan for nothing. She was proud to say she was as good with a sword as any soldier was. “I can hold my own.”

“Isn’t that unusual for a princess?” Logan asked with his usual tact and suspicion.

“It is, and my uncle did not approve of me taking up arms either, but my brother thought it good that I could defend myself,” she explained.

“Can you teach me?” Rogue asked hopefully. Everything had happened so fast that no one had had any real time to try and teach her how to defend herself, which meant she had had to count on others, like Logan and Scott to protect her. However, she didn’t what to be a burden on this journey; she wanted to help, and maybe Eowyn could help her there.

“I can.”

“Now?” Rogue asked eagerly, already halfway up from Logan’s lap to get to work.

Eowyn looked at her uncle and Aragorn who were still in deep and heated discussion about what to do, on occasion with some words of wisdom from Legolas, Gandalf or Ororo. Sure, she had the time now and besides…she found these strangers very fascinating. When first she had seen Ororo she had had a hard time not staring at her constantly. She found her amazing in her abilities, and then she had the most unusual but beautiful skin colour…she looked almost like a Goddess. However, after the first infatuation had faded she now found Scott, the handsome leader of the small band of strangers, the most fascinating of them all. With amazing powers and a strong sense of responsibility and leadership, a man of honour and tact she wondered if he was a prince from this far away place he called home. Looking at him she again wondered about the strange yet interesting red covering over his eyes and hoped he would some day explain it to her. She had a feeling he would appreciate her skills with arms unlike almost all other men she had ever met and a small demonstration couldn’t hurt.

“If you insist. Come with me then, my lady.”

Eowyn excused herself and stood to leave the table. Scott quickly stood up, and as Rogue went to Eowyn Logan followed Scott’s example and stood up as well. As the women walked away the men sat down again. Eowyn turned to Rogue and looked at the dress she had been lent; it was a long sleeved, red dress decorated with small glass stones that looked like stars that had fallen from heaven. Both her and Ororo had worn male like outfits when they had arrived but custom dictated they wore dresses and so they had changed before dinner. Both had been given a large range of dresses to choose from and Rogue had chosen the red dress of Rohan design while Ororo had chosen a soft greenish silk dress with long wide sleeves inspired by Elfish design. Eowyn then looked at her own fine white dress.

“We should change clothes first. These are not fit for a combat exercise.”

Rogue looked at her dress and then at Eowyn’s and smiled. She hadn’t thought of that in her eagerness to start doing something that felt real and useful.

“Of course. Meet you back here in five,” Rogue said over her shoulder, beginning to walk toward the chamber she had assigned together with Logan where her clothes were. The maid who had helped her prepare for dinner had also promised she would wash not only the clothes she had worn but all the clothes they had brought with them and also repair it if necessary which she had been very grateful for. It wasn’t impossible to wash clothes on the run but it sure was a lot harder than the washing machine she had had back home and which she had repeatedly wished would magically appear before her.

Rogue stopped walked when she noticed Eowyn wasn’t following her and turned back to look at her. She noticed her confused expression at her words and rephrased her sentence. “I’ll meet you back here as soon as I’ve changed.”

Eowyn smiled and nodded understanding. “Agreed.”

Scott and Logan watched the women walk away only to return soon after; Rogue dressed in pants and a long but tightly sleeved blouse and Eowyn in a loose brown dress with long but tight sleeves. The women went a little away from their end of the table in the large room, but close enough so the men could see them and began sparring with each other; Eowyn obviously had the upper hand but she seemed like a good teacher.

“Y’know, at first I thought the princess wanted our resident King here,” with his eyes Logan indicated Aragorn, “but she seems to have taken a liking to you,” Logan remarked as his eyes went from the two women to his friend. He knew Scott loved Jean with all his heart but in reality distance made the heart forgetful and not grow fonder regardless of what the Hallmark cards claimed. Furthermore, a man who faced an uncertain future, who could very likely be dead the day tomorrow, could get lonely…. Logan would be the last one to blame him for having a small sense of doubt in his love for his far away lover; he knew how lucky he was to have Rogue with him.

“Eowyn?! Nonsense. She’s just young and lonely. She’ll meet the right one,” Scott insisted, though as he spoke he looked at the women and didn’t miss the princess’ warm smile at him or his own natural smile back.

“Just sayin’,” Logan threw his hands up in the air in a surrendering gesture before he took a large swallow of his drink.

For several hours yet Scott and Logan sat and talked about different things while the women practised. Neither Scott nor Logan missed the fact that Rogue seemed to be learning the sword practice unnaturally fast and managed to even beat the princess after only a few hours of training. It was hard to say who was the most surprised over the victory; Eowyn, Rogue or the men who were watching them. Eowyn took the defeat with dignity as Rogue tried to explain to her and herself how strange it was that she had won; it didn’t make sense. It had felt like a strange and powerful force had been guiding her, she explained thoughtfully. Hearing this, both Logan and Scott had their suspicions as to what was happening to Rogue and that it was somehow connected to Gandalf. Logan was half way up his chair to demand an explanation from the old wizard who sat quietly as he followed the discussion between Aragorn and Théoden, but Scott warned Logan to be cautious about it. They had seen the wizard’s amazing powers just a few hours earlier, and so far what was happening to Rogue seemed to improve her strength and not weaken or hurt her. Reluctantly Logan had agreed to wait and see where this was going.

“Gentlemen!” King Théoden suddenly spoke up, making everyone turn their attention to him. “I have after long time’s discussion…”

  
”You can say that again,” Logan mumbled into his mug of beer.

“…decided that we are no longer safe here from Sauron. Tomorrow at dawn we will all move toward Helm’s Deep. There is an old fortress there, which will serve as protection. It is in a valley and it is built into the mountainside, giving only one way in.” The King further explained for the benefit of the strangers from far away who wouldn’t know this.

“And out,” Scott added the natural conclusion to the King’s words and frowned, not liking that scenario should they land in a fight. Scott noticed that Aragorn looked grim at this and figured the decision hadn’t been made with the full approval of the young King.

“It is decided then. Tomorrow, we leave. Gandalf The White has said he will ride tomorrow to get reinforcements to give the citizens the best protection possible. He will meet up with us at Helm’s Deep. Now, we will retire,” King Théoden continued and did just that. Only at the last minute did Scott and Logan remember to rise as the King left.

“Look’s like we’re going on a small trip...again. Should be loads of fun,” Logan said sarcastically before he emptied his drink. He preferred a straight fight instead of all this running and sneaking around. Why couldn’t they just stay in one place for once and fight the Orcs as they approached? He didn’t like how this coming battle was drawing out; he was worried for Rogue and what was happening to her. He felt a useless anger and fear when he thought about what Gandalf had done to her. He just hoped this trip was over quick and that she would be safe; her safety was the most important thing to him.

“Maybe it’ll be peaceful and uneventful….” Scott began as he with Logan started to walk over to Rogue and Eowyn to follow them to the rooms they had been given; Logan and Rogue and Legolas and Ororo were the only ones sharing rooms. How Legolas had pulled the latter off had amazed Scott as he had heard only married couples were allowed to share rooms. Scott stopped in mid sentence as he caught Logan’s eye and Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Then again…maybe not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for this week's last big update. I hope someone enjoys it in these hard times.  
> If you liked it then I would love it if you left kudos and a comment. It would make my day so please do consider it; even just an emoji. Thank you. :)


	18. Book 2: Chapter 6: A Brother’s Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faramir remembers his brother

### Chapter 6: A Brother’s Grief

He couldn’t believe he was gone. Boromir, his beloved big brother, his protector and defender…he was dead.

Faramir sat alone in the darkness of the cave where he had stopped to take rest with his rangers, his thoughts on his brother. He had been out guarding the borders of Gondor against Sauron’s army, a job which got increasingly harder with time as the army of the Dark Lord grew with each passing day. He knew he had been made Captain of the Guard only because his older brother had been away on his dream quest to Rivendell. Both brothers shared the power of vision but Boromir had ended up being the one to go. Faramir remembered his last day with his brother as clearly as had it been yesterday. Their farewell, his brother’s hug, his assurance that he would make everything alright and protect Gondor as always. What had warmed Faramir’s heart the most had been when Boromir’s eyes had softened and with a quick look at their father’s displeasure at his favourite son’s ‘softness’ towards the son he despised, Boromir had reminded him that he loved him in a voice so soft and low that it hadn’t reached their father’s or anyone else’s ears and that he should try and not let his father’s harsh words get to him. Faramir had promised he would try not to and with tears in his eyes he had embraced his brother, saying a last whispered ‘I love you’ to a big brother who had been more of a father than his blood father had ever been and then Boromir had gone…never to return.

Faramir had been uneasy about Boromir going to Rivendell in the first place. He had had a sudden premonition of losing his brother and had been terrified at the thought and so had asked if he could not go in Boromir’s place, Boromir’s reluctance at leaving Gondor when She was in danger making him more hopeful his request would be granted. His father had seemed to think it was a fool’s errand anyway to go on a dream quest and would rather have Boromir home to defend Gondor than Faramir, so had at first seen nothing against it. But when he heard the One Ring had been found he had not trusted the important task of bringing the Ring to Gondor to Faramir. Urged on my their father’s wishes and the fear that the quest would be dangerous Boromir had felt he had to be the one to go. He had teased his little brother, knowing of his great love for Elven culture and songs, and so had in jest promised he would kidnap a beautiful Elven girl for him who would sing Elfish ballads to him every night.

Yet that was not to be. Now his brother was gone forever. Faramir sighed deeply, the darkness hiding his tears as he remembered his brother. Boromir’s warrior strength and leader skills had ensured him as their father’s favourite, but it had also landed him with all the burdens and responsibilities of the Gondorian leadership. Faramir - who had always loved songs, music, books, writing and history - had annoyed his father with his quiet and gentle being and tactful and compromising manners. He was weak in his father’s eyes and so his father had hated and despised him. That Faramir also in many ways was like his deceased mother had not helped. Their father had in Faramir seen only his own loss; something that had been so great that when Faramir’s mother had passed away giving birth to him and she with her dying breath had asked Boromir to care for his brother, his father had refused to hold his newly born son. So, the first arms who had held him after his mother’s embrace had grown weak and lifeless had been Boromir’s who had matured at age 8 to become Faramir’s brother, friend, father…everything in one.

Through the hurt and sorrow at his father’s cruelty towards him during his upbringing Faramir had had two bright spots; his beloved brother’s undying support and love and no expectations to live up to. No one expected him to do anything or manage anything, making life that much easier for him, though it hurt more than words could say to hear his father think of him as worthless. His brother had always defended him, with words and deeds, against his father and anyone else. He had tried to get their father to love him but nothing had helped. Their father had hated only one thing about Boromir; his great support and love for his brother and had tried to separate the brothers whenever possible to prevent Faramir’s ‘weakness’ from contaminating his brother.

They had grown up in a harsh environment, Boromir fighting the many expectations put on him as Faramir fought just to be allowed to be, but the obstacles in their way had only strengthened their bond and they had grown as close as two brothers had ever been. Boromir had grown up to become a great warrior, leader and man and had had his greatest support among the soldiers while Faramir had grown into a quiet, thoughtful and kind young man who had the support and love of all women and scholars who ever visited the palace. Though Boromir hadn’t been as tactful as Faramir, and even though their opinions on many matters differed, their bond of blood and love had stayed strong till the end.

Faramir tried to still his tears but couldn’t as he remembered seeing his brother’s body floating downstream in a boat, the image coming to him through a vision as clear as daylight. His skin had been so cold, his face frozen forever in death. In Faramir’s eyes his brother had always seemed invincible but now he had seen him as all too human...all too dead. Only with great control had he managed to let go of his brother’s body to allow the funeral boat to sail on; toward lands where no one alive could enter.

Only a few days after he had found Boromir’s body had he run into two small beings who were very special; the Hobbits Frodo and Sam. Frodo had carried the One Ring; its power had been amazing and very tempting and Faramir had thought about taking it, but power wasn’t what he wanted; he wanted his brother back and he wanted his father to be proud of him. He knew his father would want to know about the Ring so he had decided to lead the Hobbits, together with their unusual guide who called himself Gollum, to his father in Minas Tirith. Frodo had been horrified at the thought of going there and had claimed Boromir had attacked him over the Ring, to get the Ring for himself. Faramir had been very close to striking the Hobbit in anger for speaking such evil against his beloved brother but had instantly regretted his violent thoughts; the Hobbits were like small children in his eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to harm them in any way. Still, he couldn’t believe his brother would do anyone harm who didn’t deserve it; that wasn’t like him. Boromir could be merciless if needed but never unnecessarily cruel. He would do what was best for Gondor and Her people…and if his brother had thought the Ring could help Gondor then he was surely doing the right thing by taking it to his father. Hidden under the noble desire to help his country and people was the very real but childish desire to please his father. Surely if he brought the Ring to him his father would think better of him.

Faramir ran a hand through his shoulder length brown hair and stood up, shaking the memories away. He went to a table where a map laid; trying to anticipate future Orc attacks to know where to send his army. For the millionth time he wished his brother was with him. He would know what to do…he always had. He sighed in frustration. Boromir had been the strong one; the warrior. Everyone had counted on Boromir to be the next Steward; he had spent his whole life preparing for this event. Faramir, however, had never been trained as leader of Gondor nor had he ever had a desire to rule the Kingless Kingdom though he loved it dearly. He doubted if the ruling families of Gondor would even respect him as a future ruler of Gondor after all the bad things his father had always said about him. This was one of the reasons why he was happy to be captain of the rangers as they often travelled far from Midas Tirith, his father and the evil whispers of the court; out here his men had seen his worth and respected him so when they were in the capital they paid no mind to rumours. Yet as things stood he was next in line – the kingdom would one day be his. In all honesty he had never desired that responsibly nor that kind of power. He didn’t mind leadership but he felt Gondor deserved and needed someone…better. Someone like his brother. Yet such wishful thinking was without purpose and exactly one of the reasons why he had always gotten into trouble as a child. Though often shielded or defended by his brother he too had gotten a strict upbringing with physical as well as verbal punishment for mistakes the same as Boromir had. But as people began to give up on him things got easier in that regard and he had had time to dream, to read and to write. His fascination had always been the Elves and he had always longed to see Rivendell and the other Elven realms. He now felt guilty that when his brother had left for Rivendell he had felt a stab of jealousy toward him because he, who didn’t care either way about the Elven culture, had gotten to see it, while he who worshipped and loved it never had.

Faramir’s thoughts got torn back to the harsh reality of the war he was fighting when one of his officers came into the cave and told him that Orcs were on the move. They had to get ready to leave soon. Faramir pulled himself together and gave the order to break up camp and return to Minas Tirith with their three prisoners; two Hobbits and whatever Gollum could be said to be. Trying hard to ignore the growing voice in his head that told him that Frodo’s warnings were just and that he should do as the small Hobbit said and let him and Sam go toward Mordor, he still began to give orders to make the proper preparations to leave for his hometown. His eyes were now dry and only someone who knew him well, and that had only been his brother, would have been able to see the deep pain and sorrow that was reflected in Faramir’s pale blue eyes. Lost to war and the sorrow of losing a loved one Faramir’s eyes now spoke of pained experience that belied his handsome youthful looks.


	19. Book 2: Chapter 7: Resurrection Of A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir returns

### Chapter 7: Resurrection Of A Hero

Boromir had never thought he could be in so much agony. Wave after wave of pain washed over him as his beautiful but very deadly tormentor proved herself relentless in her pursuit of his soul.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed since he had last seen a friendly face. He remembered it so clearly and that memory kept his spirits up. Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor, his Captain and his brother, bending over him with tears in his eyes as he mourned his coming death. Yet death hadn’t been what had been awaiting him. The peace he had so longed to find in the arms of death had been denied him. Instead of waking up to see a loved face, like his beloved departed mother or his lost wife, instead of feeling his mother’s warm embrace or Elia’s soft kisses, he had woken up laying naked and shivering on a cold stone floor in a otherwise empty room. He had curled up on his side, shock, anger, confusion and a million other emotions running through him when he noticed the presence of Saruman and a strange beautiful woman. Though he hadn’t known why he had known the presence of the wizard meant he was most like in Saruman’s stronghold of Isengard. He had been confused, hurt, and lost. What had happened? Why wasn’t he dead? He had checked his body but it looked like new; in fact he couldn’t even find old battle scars from before his journey to Rivendell. The pain in his body had been intense and his eyes had seemed to be hurt by the light that came in from the windows as if they had never been opened before. He could see the sky through the windows, so he guessed he was high up in the castle, strangling any foolish hopes he might have had of escaping. His memories had seemed to jump back and forth, confusing fragments of war, battles, brotherhood, worry and love. To confuse him even more then his senses seemed to play tricks on him; everything seemed louder, brighter…bigger than he somehow knew it aught to be.

“He looks like him. We can use him,” Saruman’s voice had seemed loud and as devoid of any warm and caring feelings as the old wizard looked. His words made no sense to him and only increased the chaos in his mind. In his pain his eyes had gone from his enemy to the strange woman. She had stood tall, an impassive look on her beautiful face. She had clear green eyes, long floating red hair and a beautiful body dressed in a tight warrior outfit in orange/red tones with a large bird of fire painted on her chest. Too confused to think clearly and too weak to protest the action he had instinctually reached out a hand towards her, his tortured green eyes meeting and holding hers.

“Help me, please.”

The plea had easily escaped his lips, like a child asking for its mother. The woman had smiled but the smile had frozen his blood to ice and killed any illusions he might have had of getting help from her. She had gone to him and instinctually he had drawn a little back from her, wincing at the pain it brought his body; it was as if his muscles had never before been used. She had knelt beside him and had let a finger run carelessly over his naked body from his thigh to his shoulder blade, leaving behind a trail of fire that sent pain through every fibre of his body. He bit down hard on his lower lip to prevent himself from screaming out loud, making his mouth taste of his own blood.

“I see my baby has finally been born,” she turned her head and smiled wickedly at Saruman before she turned back to him. “You’ll feel better soon, though I promise it won’t be for long. Until then…” she waved two Orc guards to her that had been standing behind him and so outside of Boromir’s line of vision and he was rudely pulled to his feet. His heart rate quickened in fear at the sight of them, clearly remembering the agony of the arrows that had cut him down.

“Nooo!”

The protest of fear and panic had instinctually escaped his lips though with returning strength and memories his pride also began to return, making his cheeks flame with shame over his own weakness. He tried not to show his fear of the Orcs as they rudely held him up between them; too weak to stand he was only held up by their strength.

“Take him away,” the woman ordered and made a dismissive gesture and the Orcs began to drag him away. He had fought a rising tide of panic as he weakly tried to get free of their grasp.

“No! Who are you? What is going on here?” he found his voice wasn’t nearly half as strong or demanding as he would have liked it to be. Instead it sounded weak and fearful; almost childlike. Instead of replying the woman had merely smiled coldly at him before he was taken away.

Despite his fears the Orcs hadn’t killed him but had locked him up in a room nearby. Thinking back he would have preferred it if they had either let him stay dead or had killed him then. But apparently nothing in his life should ever be easy and so neither should his death.

After having been thrown on the floor by the Orcs he had laid still for a little while, trying to gather strength. He had managed to see that the room he was in was no cell. It held a bed, a closet and even had a mirror on the wall. He had struggled to his hands and knees and had managed to crawl into bed and had then promptly fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. When he had awakened again he had first thought it had all just been a strange dream and that he was home and safe in his room in his beloved city of Minas Tirith. No such luck. He wasn’t even dead. He had tested his legs again and had found some of his strength had returned. Exploring the room he had found a pair of plain brown pants in the closet and had dressed himself in them. After finding the door locked, he tested its strength – he could not break it down. He had then made sure with a look in the mirror that he still looked like himself though without his scars.

After that there had been little to do and a lot to think about. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he dead? Why didn’t his body have any scars? Who was the woman? Were the Little Ones safe? Had the Ring been destroyed? Were Aragorn and the others safe? Was Faramir well? Had Gondor fallen? He had thought long and hard about all those things but he knew none of the answers. He was however sure of some things. He was now a captive of Saruman’s and that could only mean the wizard wanted to use him either to gain information or as a weapon against his friends. Maybe Saruman had felt his temptation of the Ring and therefore had been sure of his willingness to co-operate. Well, he had already made up his mind – he would rather suffer a thousand deaths than ever harm his friends again. He had already shamed his country and his name by trying to harm Frodo, the little Hobbit he had sworn an oath to protect. He had failed once; he wouldn’t fail again.

His strength to keep to that promise had been put to the test repeatedly since he had first thought it. He had known it would happen but the Orcs returning to bring him before the woman again had still come too soon. He had been brought back to the empty stone room, which he assumed was one of the towers. Saruman hadn’t been there this time but the woman had. Unlike Saruman, who Boromir was sure had a quick temper and who would try a direct approach, the woman had used torture mixed with more than enough psychoanalytic torture to make him wish her a million painful deaths all at once. After too many sessions with her to count he knew with certainty he would much rather have had Saruman interrogate him. Something that he was sure she knew too, which was most likely why she was torturing him instead of the wizard. The first time he had been brought before her he had been prepared to being questioned under direct torture. He hadn’t expected her to send out the Orcs, leaving only the two of them in the room with the door closed behind them. He had considered jumping her right there but time spent with Aragorn and Scott made him be more cautious. If Saruman trusted her this much she obviously had some kind of power. She wore no weapons but that didn’t have to mean anything. Neither Gandalf nor Saruman would normally carry weapons either and Scott, Rogue, Logan and Ororo all had magical powers at their disposal at any time.

When they had been left alone she had smiled that icy smile which would have sent shivers up his spine even if he hadn’t been so damn cold already.

“Slept well, I hope?” her voice had been like silk over iron. His eyes shot daggers at her as he completely ignored her question, facing her with both hands down his sides in a seemly relaxed posture, forcing himself not to show his uneasiness by forming fists.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” He was happy to hear his voice again carried command and strength. She had looked unsure for a second whether to be annoyed or amused about his questions. She had chosen the latter. With another small smile and a deadly gleam to her green eyes her entire body had seemed to begin to glow like a flame and she began to lift up into the air.

“By the…” Boromir had mumbled shocked and had taken a step back, one hand raised before his face as if to protect himself. He had never seen anyone capable of doing anything like this!

“I am Phoenix, fire and life incarnate!” her voice seemed like thunder. Then just as suddenly as it had begun it ended. The light and her warmth died out, leaving him feeling even colder than before as she descended to the floor again. He let his hand fall to his side and fought down his fear to look her in the eyes, forcing himself to face her in pretended nonchalant.

“Why you are here?” She asked lightly and went to him to run a finger over his cheek. Only with great control did he manage not to flinch or pull away from her touch. “You’re going to help me get this miserable Ring to Saruman so I can get what I want,” her voice was dark and sure.

He had torn himself free, his eyes ablaze with fire.

“Never!” he had vowed.

“Careful,” she had warned and had stepped a little away from him, her eyes never leaving his. “Never can be a very long time and as you might have found out…not even death holds release for you. Only I can grant you peace now!”

No more words had been spoken as with only a wave of her hand she had sent wave after wave of pure agony through his body, making him scream out in pain, pride long forgotten and lost to the strong waves of torturous pain that demanded some kind of release.

It was now at least the eleventh time Phoenix was torturing him, only stopping to heal him, something she seemed able to do as easily as she could inflict pain.

“Your bodies here are so easy to destroy and repair,” she had said to him once when she had healed several broken bones and internal injures after an especially painful session with her, though they were all worse than any punishment he had ever been able to imagine and he had always thought he had quite a lively imagination in that regard. As time had passed he had a feeling that she knew as well as he did that his resolution not to give in was fading. His stubborn courage and strength was no use or match against her magic. Was he injured, she could heal him, was he dead, she could apparently bring him back. As she told him every time he refused her…there was no escape but to co-operate. Yet so far the images of his brother’s disappointment, Gondor in ruins, his friends tortured and killed had stopped him even though he had been so close to give up. Now though, he wasn’t just near the edge; he was over it. His agony had no end; even death wouldn’t stop it. There was no escape, no way out, and Phoenix’s voice had seemed to ring in his mind over and over as she reminded him of that. She was setting every nerve end he had in his entire body on fire and he could feel several broken ribs and broken bones, which added to his agony. Finally…the words were forced from his bloodied lips.

“I…will…help…you.”

The pain stopped at once and the invisible hand which had held him upright released its hold on him and allowed him to slip to the floor with a small yell of pain as his abused body touched the cold and blooded stone floor. She waved her hand in his direction and his body instantly tensed, associating the movement with pain and torment but this time it healed. Slowly and painfully bones and flesh bonded, mended and healed until he could breathe freely again. Her hand dropped to her side but he didn’t stand up. If he just lay still, didn’t see the satisfied gleam in her eyes…maybe he could pretend he hadn’t spoken those traitorous words. Maybe he could pretend for just a few precious seconds that this was all some terrible nightmare.

“Stand up.”

The order wasn’t that harshly spoken but a small movement of her hand, a silent threat had him on his feet in no time. He forced himself to stop his body from shaking as his eyes met hers.

“I told you you’d see reason soon enough, though you held out remarkably longer than I had anticipated,” she remarked as casually as if she was discussing the weather. Boromir tried to keep his thoughts and feelings under control. Through his torture he had noticed how she seemed to anticipate his every move and seemed to know his every last thought of hope so she could destroy it. Somehow she seemed able to read his mind and so he knew he had to try and keep all his thoughts and emotions inside; something he wasn’t used to. He had always been a man of action; letting his deeds speak for him. Now he knew it was time to change that in light of everything that had happened.

“What is it you wish of me?” he forced the words out, fighting down his urge to object, to fight, to protest this humiliation.

She smiled almost kindly and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“Saruman has sent a force to intercept the convoy your King Aragorn is leading to Helm’s Deep,” she began, taking enjoyment in seeing the shifting emotions that ran over his face from joy at finally knowing his friend was still alive to anger and fear and then finally, nothing as he regained control over his emotions again. Phoenix had up until now enjoyed refusing to give him certainty about what had happened since his ‘death’. One day she would claim Saruman had captured Merry and Pippin and the next she would claim Faramir had been slain and so on with any and all people and things he cared for, her power of reading his mind enabling her to use each of his loves and concerns against him. His fear that she might be right about just one of the things she had claimed had torn at his soul and heart. “The Ring no longer travels with him. Instead it has fallen into the hands of no other than your brother.”

  
Boromir couldn’t hide his joy at knowing his beloved brother was safe but then shock spread over his face at this piece of news.

“Faramir has it?!”

How had the Ring landed with Faramir? Were Frodo and Sam dead? Had the mission failed? Again too many questions came to his mind and again he had no answers. He couldn’t keep a shiver from running through him as he thought of the last time he had had the Ring…dark, sinister…seductive. _Please, don’t be tempted!_ He silently prayed for his brother, but then he found strength in the certainty that his brother was stronger than him; smarter than him…he wouldn’t be pulled down by the weight of the Ring.

“The Ring is powerful,” Phoenix nodded, having read his mind. Boromir guessed as much and tried hard to clear his mind from any thoughts. “You may find that you’ll have to fight your brother for it,” she mused.

_Never!_ Boromir thought hotly but said nothing. This was his chance; his only chance. He had to get away from here. It was now or never.

“I’ll send you to Faramir and preferably you’ll get him to give you the Ring to avoid drawing attention to what’s happening before it’ll be unavoidable but fight him if you must,” she instructed.

_Amazing that the warrior still has some spirit left in him_ , she thought as she read the instant denial in his mind, but he’ll need it later so she chose not to punish him for it.

“Why don’t you just take the Ring yourself?” a note of defiance was in his voice.

“Oh, believe me…I would if I could,” her eyes gleamed with the hunger for power and he knew she spoke true though from her words earlier he gathered it wasn’t the Ring itself she wanted but some kind of reward that she expected Sauron or Saruman to give her. “But I can’t,” she made an irritated movement with her hand which made him instinctually jump in fear of pain. “Something very annoying about different planes of existence or something.”

Boromir wasn’t sure what to say because he wasn’t sure he understood her. As far as he could gather she couldn’t get the Ring because she wasn’t of this world. He frowned. Was he of this world even though he was technically dead?

  
”Don’t you worry about that,” Phoenix cut through his thoughts. “This body I made for you are of this Earth. You’re quite capable of taking the Ring for me.”

  
There was silence for a while as Boromir hung his head, seemly broken and tormented by what would be yet another betrayal…another failure.

”Don’t feel so bad,” she teased wickedly. “Look at the bright side…as long as the Ring stays intact so will you.”

Boromir’s head flew up at this but Phoenix seemed thoughtful and had a distant look in her eyes as if listening to something that happened far away. Had he understood her right? His resurrection was somehow connected to the Ring of power? Evil had resurrected him? It brought a foul taste to his mouth, but also brought him hope. In all the days, which must have passed since he had been awakened, he hadn’t had to drink or eat nor had he had any other normal bodily needs. Apparently he no longer had human needs though he was in a new human body that looked like his old one. But if the Ring was destroyed…then so would he. Seeing Phoenix was still preoccupied he allowed himself a small smile. He had the answer. He knew what he had to do. For freedom, for Gondor, for Aragorn, for his friends, for his beloved brother…to restore his honour. It was suddenly so clear now. He had to fight to get his emotions under control; finally things seemed to be looking up a little. Finally, he had a plan and finally…he saw the faintest glimmer of hope. Now all he could do was wait and pray that his plan would succeed…on that everything depended.


	20. Book 2: Chapter 8: Gaining Power; Losing Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship thinks Aragorn and Ororo might be dead

### Chapter 8: Gaining Power; Losing Friends

They had walked for several days now, and to Scott’s surprise the journey had turned out to be rather pleasant for him, even with the eminent threat of death hanging over their heads.

The city had been given one day to pack up, and they had left for Helm’s Deep early the next morning. He estimated at least five thousand people had begun the long journey with them. He walked at the head of the convoy together with the rest of the Fellowship, King Théoden, and his entourage. The princess Eowyn had dressed down in a plain brownish dress, but it suited the blond woman very well. She had tried to start a conversation with Aragorn and had among other things asked about his jewel. He had explained that Arwen had given it to him; the Elven Princess who he was sure had by now left these Lands, and whom he loved more than life itself. Seeing the love and despair in the young King’s eyes she had given him a comforting smile before she left him to the privacy of his memories and thoughts. She had quickly fallen in beside Scott. He had been a little hesitant at first; after all what could he have in common with a princess? He had lost his parents as a child and had grown up in an orphanage, after that lived on the streets and with an abusive foster father until finally Xavier had found him and taken him in. What could he talk about with a woman who had grown up to riches and privilege in a palace? To his surprise he had found they had had quite a lot to talk about and a lot in common. They were both strong-willed individuals who had refused to be labelled by society. They both had clear definitions of right and wrong and they were both willing to fight for their dream. Even his mutation was no problem to her; in fact she found it fascinating. The previous night when they had been sitting close to the others - but still a little apart - she had asked to see his eyes behind his glasses. He had been hesitant but had decided to trust her. He had closed his eyes and taken off his glasses, explaining that he couldn’t open them without having the glasses on without hurting someone. He wasn’t sure what he had expected as he held his breath in fearful expectation but her soft fingertips running over his closed eyes with such trust and care hadn’t been what he had had in mind. She had then taken his glasses and put them back on for him. Able to see her face again in shades of red there was no mistaking the warm glow in her eyes nor how her very being made him smile back.

He hadn’t missed her growing affection nor his own heart warming up to her and Logan’s words about her infatuation haunted him. He was a married man, a happily married man, he sternly reminded himself. He loved Jean; he had always loved Jean. She had been his first and only love. But with Earth so far away, the threat of death so close, and nightmares of Phoenix, a dark and twisted image of his beloved, killing him each night in his sleep, he knew he wasn’t immune to Eowyn’s charms. It was more than her strength and her lack of fear of his mutation that made him interested in her. She possessed a grace and innocence, which he had never seen before. Jean was older than him by several years, had always been more experienced and held a higher educational degree than him. That hadn’t bothered him and it still didn’t, but it was amazing to see such strength mixed with such sweet innocence in Eowyn. She was a warrior but also an innocent woman closer to his own age than Jean was. She would look to him for guidance in matters of the heart…she already looked at him with this warm infatuated look in her eyes. A look he began to love more and more. She was always willing to listen to him as he was to her but more than that; she truly understood the burdens of leadership and responsibility he carried for she shared them.

Scott walked in silence, his thoughts occupied with images of Jean and Eowyn. He felt bad and guilty for even liking the princess and even more so as he was forced to admit that his heart was beginning to warm up to her. Even this, walking in comfortable silence was possible with her. She saw him as a great leader and warrior yet laid neither bonds nor obligations on him.

“I hear something approaching,” Legolas suddenly warned. He walked before Scott and Eowyn, beside Aragorn, Ororo and Gimli.

Logan who walked with Rogue to Scott’s left stood still and listened as well. “It’s faint but…it sounds like something’s coming this way,” he warned grimly, agreeing with Legolas’ words of warning.

Ororo flew up and began to scout ahead on the hill filled green plains.

“Watch out for arrows!” Scott yelled lightly concerned after her, having not forgotten her near miss shortly before Boromir’s tragic death.

“I will,” she yelled over her shoulder at him. Legolas cast a quick worried look at Ororo but then continued to run up a hill in hopes of seeing any approaching enemies more clearly.

Eowyn looked worried but fearlessly at Scott.

“Do you think it’s Orcs?” she asked calmly. “The civilians would be in great danger were we attacked here.” Just this show of calm and concern for her people made Scott think even higher of her.

“Let’s hope not,” Scott said grimly but feared she was right.

Aragorn jumped on his horse and followed the fast Elf who had already almost reached the top of the nearby green hill to try and see even further. Scott looked ahead on the green plains but could see or hear nothing. Suddenly several figures appeared. Orcs riding large animals that to Scott looked like a cross between a panther and an overgrown dog that looked very hungry. Just the sight was fearful, and then to imagine doing battle with such monsters….

“Shit!” Logan said what Scott was thinking. The old Rohan King appeared before Eowyn, talking to her from atop his horse. His face and voice showed his worry and strain.

“Take the people to safety in Helm’s Deep. We will hold them back as long as we can to provide cover for you.”

“But I want to help. I want to fight,” Eowyn argued.

The King looked sternly at her.

“Do as I say,” he instructed, more worry for his niece’s safety in his voice than any real command.

She nodded, giving in. She turned to Scott as if to speak yet found no words to express what she felt. This could be the end; she might never see him again and the thought made her heart feel cold as ice. Scott saw the Orcs beginning to appear and his heart rate quickened in anticipation for the upcoming fight. Not thinking, only feeling he grabbed Eowyn around the waist and planted a quick kiss on her lips. Her arms managed to go around his neck before he released her and pulled back. Eowyn blushed prettily but smiled a warm and large smile at him. He felt a stab of guilt at having kissed her but it got overshadowed by the feelings of the moment; warm, loving feelings mixed with fear and anticipation for the coming battle.

“Nice goin’, Scooter,” Logan teased though his eyes remained serious as he saw the approaching enemy. He had heard the enemy riders just a few seconds before they had appeared but it hadn’t been enough time to warn the others.

“Be safe,” Eowyn whispered to Scott and worry and warmth were in her eyes.

He nodded and helped her up on her horse. “You too, Princess.”

Their hands met briefly before he slapped the horse on the rear and sent it away. Eowyn didn’t look back as she called her people to her and began to move out and towards Helm’s Deep as quickly as possible. Scott frowned as a thought occurred to him. What if Sauron wanted them to go to Helm’s Deep? What if….

Scott’s thoughts were interrupted as Legolas came running back to get up on a horse with Gimli after having been able to slay several Orcs with his bow before anyone else had a chance to even aim at them. All that mattered here and now was to keep them all alive, Scott thought grimly. He wouldn’t lose anyone else.

“Rogue, you should go with the Princess,” Logan began but Rogue shook her head stubbornly.

“I stay!” she insisted. This was her chance to help. She had felt something powerful growing inside her; she could do this. She had to do this.

Logan looked set to protest but Scott interrupted him.

“We don’t have time for this. Saddle up and let’s go slay some Orcs,” Scott instructed as he went up on his own horse. He eyed his opponents. With his beams he could kill a lot of them from a distance. He looked to see where Ororo was and saw she was throwing lightning bolts at some of them, flying in an irregular pattern to avoid arrows. He would have to know where she was before firing, as well as anyone else to be sure he wouldn’t hit anyone from their side by accident.

“Hold your horses, Scooter. Rogue’s riding with me,” Logan began but then looked in shock and surprise as his wife mounted her own horse and smiled sweetly at him. He quickly got up on his horse as well.

“Sugah, you really should try and keep up,” she said in a sweetened tone and then rode right past both Scott and Logan, right into the heart of the enemy.

“Fuckin’ great!” Logan swore hotly, concern carved into every curve of his face though Scott couldn’t help but break a small amused smile because she did seem to be able to handle things just fine. “Remind me to kill Gandalf when this is over.” It was all that wizard’s fault. Every since he had touched her she had been different. If Rogue got hurt he would kill that old man as painfully as he possibly could!

With those words Logan began to ride after her, Scott right beside him. Scott nodded at Logan’s words. Rogue had been different since the touch. Not only just stronger in her fighting abilities but she had seemed stronger mentally as well; more eager to take on the world on her own. Trouble was, her only mutation she couldn’t use. If Gandalf got her killed Logan wouldn’t be the only one waiting in line to get a piece of the old wizard.

Scott fired his eye beams at the enemy whenever he saw the opportunity. By now he didn’t only have to watch for Rogue and Ororo, but the rest of the fellowship and the Rohan warriors as well as they had also engaged the enemy in heavy battle. It was hard to tell how the battle was going because Orcs seemed to arrive constantly and the battle was one big confusing mess of screams, blood, dying, dead, wounded and dirt all around. Despite their earlier run-ins with Orcs this was the X-men’s first real battle in such a wild and untamed setting; unlike the more sterile battles they led at home. The screams of pain and the stench of blood and death would have forced Ororo and Scott to their knees if not they purposefully blocked it out of their minds. With his heightened senses the dirty battle seemed only to fuel Logan’s rage and Rogue seemed distracted enough not yet to notice the panic around her.

Fighting their way through, Logan and Scott saw to their relief that the Orcs hadn’t touched Rogue at all. Then Scott looked more closely. No, the Orcs did try to kill her…only she put up a hand and the swords moving in for the kill broke before even touching her skin. Scott breathed in sharply in shock and surprise at the sight.

“Did you see that?” Scott yelled to be heard over the terrible noise of battle to Logan though the other man rode just beside him. They were now so deep into the Orcs’ rows that he had to use his sword as well as his eyes. He had to carefully calculate it each time he wanted to use his powers because he would be momentarily blinded when he took off the glasses and it was a large risk, even with Logan watching his back. Logan used his claws and a sword as he fought the Orcs, looking at Rogue whenever possible.

“She’s alright!” Logan yelled back relieved.

“Yes. I think Gandalf touched her…to give her some of his magic. She absorbed it,” Scott tried to calm Logan but he wasn’t sure he was heard. Suddenly a large bright light emanated from Rogue and all Orcs within a 60 feet radius of her turned into dust. Logan looked momentarily stunned, as did everyone else before the battle resumed.

“Wow. She’s truly magic,” Logan breathed in wonder and joy at knowing she would be safe now. It was the last Scott could hear before the battle intensified and it demanded all his attention. Rogue used her powers eleven more times before the battle died out. She returned to Scott and Logan, a satisfied smile on her lips though she looked extremely tired. Logan jumped off his horse and helped Rogue down off hers. They embraced and Logan kissed the top of her head, mumbling over and over again how much he loved her. She drew a little back and smiled at him.

  
“I love you too,” she said softly before promptly passing out in his arms from the strain of using her new powers and the intensity of battle. Logan looked panicked but Scott jumped from his horse and lay a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder and spoke softly and reassuringly to him:

“She’ll be alright. She’s just tired.”

However Rogue’s lack of shock and difficulty with having killed for the first time had him worried. However necessary killing at times could be he opposed killing in general and had a hard time dealing with his actions here in Middle Earth where he had been forced to kill many Orcs. Rogue was usually a very empathic person so he had expected a much stronger reaction from her. Of course her reaction could just be delayed but he couldn’t help but wonder that maybe her great powers had a dark side to them as well? It was something he didn’t like to think about and didn’t have time to go more into now but the thought had never the less entered his mind and remained in the back of his mind, making him mildly worried for his friend.

Logan calmed down and carried Rogue off the battlegrounds, to where the surviving soldiers were beginning to gather, helping the wounded. He sat with her in his embrace, keeping her safe. Scott waited with the soldiers as well, standing a little away from them, closer to the battlefield. He tried to see Ororo or some of the others he knew but couldn’t. Every time a new soldier returned he had to fight down his disappointment and anger at the soldier for not being someone he knew. Finally King Théoden and most of his officers returned. After that, Gimli, but no sight of Legolas, Aragorn or Ororo. Gimli wanted to search for the Elf but Scott convinced him to stay a little longer. Finally Legolas emerged over the plains. Scott’s joyful smile died, as Legolas got so close so he could see the deep sorrow in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Scott couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice. Please…don’t let it be Ororo, he silently prayed. He had come to care for Aragorn but Ororo he had known for years and so he couldn’t help but to play favourites. He could see on Gimli’s face that the Dwarf did the same for though worried he couldn’t hide his joy at seeing the Elf alive and well. Legolas didn’t reply but simply handed Scott something he had had crushed in his hand. Puzzled Scott took it and looked at it.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, strangling his sorrow. It was Aragorn’s necklace. It was the jewel Arwen had given him. He would never have taken it off; never. It could only mean one thing….

“We have lost Aragorn?” it wasn’t really a question that Logan asked from behind him where he still sat with Rogue. It was more a soft statement of fact. To Scott who knew Logan well the pain in his voice over the thought of another lost friend was clear in his voice and if he turned to look at him Scott was sure he could read pain in his eyes as well. They might have had their differences and trust might have been an issue but Aragorn had still managed to become a friend. The days that had turned to months they had spent together here in a strange land, fighting side by side, had created a bong between all the Fellowship members that meant that despite differences they shared a bond that was unbreakable.

“Yes,” Scott forced the word out, almost choking on it. “God damn it!” he swore hotly and closed his hand hard around the jewel. He should have looked after the young King, no matter how well trained in battle he was. He should have taken care of him. He had failed him. He should have done something; anything!

“Do not break it. He would have wanted to keep it safe,” Legolas said softly and unfolded Scott’s hand and took the jewel back. He had found the jewel on the ground after the battle; it must have been torn from Aragorn’s neck in his struggle to save his own life. Legolas let one hand run fondly but sadly over it before he placed it around his own neck and tied the broken chain securely together. Scott eyed the Elf worriedly. He knew Legolas had shared a deep bond with Aragorn and he had heard of how Elves could die of grief. Legolas looked more grief struck now than he had when Gandalf and Boromir had died. He prayed he wasn’t going to lose another friend.

“Do you command the strangers?” A young Rohan soldier asked Scott, breaking through his worried thoughts. He saluted him when Scott turned his attention to the battle worn young man. Scott returned his greeting in military manner.

“Yes.” He had a very bad feeling about this. Please don’t say what I fear you will, Scott silently prayed, his hands forming fists by his side, his fingers drawing bloody trails in his palms.

“I saw one of your people, the flying white haired woman, take a hit and fall towards the river that runs through these lands.”

Scott had seen that not far from the battlefield there had been a sharp cliff, which ended in a small river. If Ororo had been hit and then had fallen from so high into shallow water….

“No. No. No. NOO!” Scott shook his head fanatically, fighting tears. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. He was losing them all. He was failing. He had fought to keep it all together; fought to be strong. He could deal with the nightmares of his beloved wife killing him every night in his sleep, he could fight the guilt of killing, the insecurity of how to ever get his team back home, his worry for his friends, his guilt for his growing care for the Rohan princess, the hardship of their journey, the new friends they had lost…he had hung on despite it all because he had still had the hope, the goal, to bring his own team safely back home. Now, that dream had shattered. Ororo, his sweetest friend…his oldest and closest friend who was more like family than a friend, who he loved…he had failed her. He had failed. He was losing everything. Xavier’s trust in him as leader had been misplaced. He had failed her. She was…. This couldn’t be happening! He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t!

“It’s okay,” suddenly Logan stood beside him and he saw that Gimli was now guarding the sleeping Rogue. Looking at his friend Scott could see the grief so clear in Logan’s face.

“It’s not fair!” Without thinking he began to hit Logan in the chest with his fists, over and over again as tears ran down his tears unnoticed to him, his world falling apart around him.

At that moment, it was the first time it really occurred to Logan how young Scott was. Only 28 he had already lost so much and had been expected to play leader for Xavier’s X-men since before he had reached 20. He had never really lost a comrade or a friend before. He had taken responsibility for the well being and safety of everyone under his command and everyone who became a friend but since they had arrived in Middle Earth he had experienced one failure after another as they had kept losing Fellowship members and now one of their own had fallen. It was too much to expect Scott to keep carrying all that inside, not to mention his worry for Rogue and his strange dreams of Phoenix. Logan just stood still, offering silent support until the anger faded and Scott began to sob softly into Logan’s shoulder.

“It’s never fair,” Logan admitted, his voice filled with pain as he fought to keep his tears away. He closed his arms around the younger man to keep him from falling to the ground as his legs seemed to give in under him and his strength seemed set to leave him, giving into the shock, panic and grief that the aftershocks of the bloody battle had brought him. _God damn it, ‘Ro. Why did you have to be so brave?_ Logan thought sadly.

After what felt like a lifetime Scott was able to tear himself free of Logan’s embrace and stepped back from him. He gave the other man a small grateful smile but then all traces of the vulnerable and grief stuck young man faded as he turned to Legolas. In his own sorrow he didn’t see the agony that shone in the Prince’ eyes.

“Why didn’t you…?” Scott’s voice was cold and hard but then died out. He wasn’t sure what he had wanted the Elf to do but something; anything.

Legolas shook his head sadly.

“I felt both Aragorn and Ororo getting hit. My heart got torn in two but I could not get to them; I was too far away. At the time I reached the abyss and looked into the river I could not see any of them.”

Pain and guilt fought for dominance in Legolas’ voice but Scott was too caught up in his own grief to see the warning signs.

“You should have done something!” Scott yelled pained. Legolas’ eyes got even more pain filled though Logan wouldn’t have thought that possible.

“You did what you could,” Logan said softly to Legolas, knowing that if not Scott had been so caught up in his sorrow he would have said the same. Logan could see that Legolas wasn’t by far convinced and as he looked at Scott he found guilt in his eyes as well; both Legolas and Scott blamed themselves for Aragorn and Ororo’s deaths and he guessed he couldn’t say anything against that for he blamed himself for Ororo as well. If he had just looked for her, had been stronger, more observant, more….

“Your lady friend saw Aragorn take a hit and fall to the abyss, I saw it as well,” the young soldier broke in. “She flew to catch him but was hit and fell as well.”

Logan wasn’t sure if the soldier tried to make them feel better by letting them know that she had died trying to save Aragorn, or if he had said it to assure them that their friends had been together when it had happened. Whatever it was it didn’t lessen their sorrow. Time seemed to stand still for them all as they remembered their two lost friends, none of them noticing the soldier saluting Scott and then leaving to let them mourn in peace.

Then King Théoden spoke loud and clear and awoke them from the web of memories and sorrow they had been caught up in, “We must continue towards Helm’s Deep as soon as all the wounded has been gathered and the dead buried. Get to work,” he ordered and the soldiers got ready to leave, making the last preparations. With his heightened sense of smell Logan was only too happy at the thought of moving on; this place stank of death and blood and without the fury of battle to distract him from it the smells were beginning to get on his nerves.

Logan tried his best to comfort Legolas and Scott but he wasn’t good with words and didn’t know how to make them feel better. Both men had fallen silent, lost in their own grief and pain. Though deeply worried for them both he was most concerned for the Elf. Scott at least he knew couldn’t die from his grief; the Elf could. If there was one thing neither of them needed was another death. Though what could he say to a man who had lost his best friend and the woman he cared for, maybe even had come to love…all in one day? He hoped Rogue would soon regain her strength in hopes she would have a gentle touch that could bring their friends out of the dark place of sorrow, guilt and pain they had placed themselves in.

Soon they were moving again, slower, more broken but still going strong toward Helm’s Deep. The cries of pain from the wounded echoed through the air and a dark cloud hang around them all as their screams reminded them of all the ones they had had to bury and who would never again speak a word. Rogue still seemed to sleep peacefully so he held her in a tight embrace as he rode with her, her face lying on his chest, listening to the steady and strong rhythm of his heartbeat.

Gimli eyed Legolas concerned as the Elf walked beside him, while Logan tried to keep an eye on both Scott who rode beside him and Legolas at the same time. Both had dry eyes but their eyes now seemed dead and held a far away look and neither had spoken more than they absolutely had to. Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he looked at his friends. He had a bad feeling that he could be losing at least one more friend if something didn’t give soon. He briefly turned his eyes to the dark heavens. He hadn’t prayed for years though Rogue often did and also often attended church. He wasn’t even sure he believed in a God but he was getting desperate.

“If You’re there...if You even listen to me…give us a fuckin’ break here, okay? A little help wouldn’t be dismissed either,” he mumbled at the unmoving dark heavens. He got no reply and a cold hand got a hold of his heart. He felt as if he stood to lose everything and his arms tightened around Rogue. He still didn’t understand these new powers of hers and what was happening to her, he had just lost two friends and if he lost two more…. He shook his head. Every time he thought things couldn’t get much worse, they just got disastrous. He began to lose all hope that any of them would ever get through this alive.


	21. Book 2: Chapter 9: A Heart For A Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aragorn explains to Ororo why Legolas can never know she loves him.

### Chapter 9: A Heart For A Life

He could see her before him. So fine, so elegant. Timeless in her beauty. She was holding him tight and whispering soft words of care and encouragement in his ear, her eyes smiling and glimmering with the strong light of love. Her lips met his, soft, warm and willing…life giving. She smiled warmly at him as she drew back from him.

“Arwen,” he whispered her name but as he reached for her she seemed to fade away from him. “Arwen!” his voice held a slight note of panic as she faded away from him completely, leaving him alone and feeling colder than he had in ages.

“Aragorn! Please, wake up. Aragorn!” the voice was forceful and urgent, distinctively female with a slight accent he couldn’t place. Definitely not his beloved Arwen though. He forced himself to open his eyes and as he did so his body began to scream to him with its discomfort and pain. He blinked against the sharp sunlight until a worried face came into view; Ororo.

“Are you well?” she asked worried and with a hand behind his head helped him slowly sit up. He noticed they were on a riverbank, his horse standing close by. His clothes were dirty and torn and he could feel countless small cuts and wounds from the battle and his fall. His most severe injury was in his right shoulder where an arrow had engraved itself into him. He saw that the arrow had been removed and his wound was bandaged with a piece of Ororo’s blouse. He eyed his companion more closely. She looked tired, dirty and worn, her clothes almost as ruined as his own from dirt, blood and sweat. The only injury he could see on her were two arrow wounds, one in her left leg just above her knee and one in her left shoulder, both bandaged with pieces from her clothing.

“I am well enough to travel,” Aragorn replied and fought to stand, trying to lean as little as possible on Ororo to prevent her from gaining any further injury. With his left arm around her uninjured shoulder they slowly began to move toward his horse, him walking slower than he had to out of respect for her injured leg.

“Are you badly wounded?” he asked her with a worried tone to his voice and eyes, afraid she might have more injuries he could not spot. She had from the start been one of the strangers he had come to care for and trust the easiest, her similarity to the Elves and her alliance with Legolas having aided this.

“I have been better, but my injuries are not severe,” the faint note of pain in her voice made it clear to them both that she was downplaying her injuries but given their situation even he, a healer, could do little to help her.

They had reached his horse and he turned to her with a serious face.

“You will ride with me.” She looked set to protest but he overruled her. “You need it more than I and though it will slow us down a bit we both need to regain our strength.”

She nodded, seeing the logic in his words. Carefully he helped her up in the saddle, holding her uninjured leg so she had to swing her injured leg over the saddle but it was less painful than if he had pushed her up by it. When she was sitting safely Aragorn swung up behind her and took the rains, his arms holding her close and safe. In a slow but steady pace they began to move toward Helm’s Deep.

Aragorn’s right hand went to his neck and to his sorrow he found his necklace was missing.

“Did you see my jewel by the river?” He knew he shouldn’t get so attached to it, but with Arwen leaving it was the only thing he had left of her. Though her memory would stay in his heart and mind forever he had wanted something to hold; something to touch.

Ororo shook her head sadly.

“I’m afraid not. The current in these waters must have carried it away. I’m sorry,” her tone was sincere and heartfelt.

He nodded, accepting her sympathies. They rode on in thoughtful silence for a while then Aragorn asked the question he had been considering since he had awoken.

“What happened? The last thing I recall is being hit as I was riding close to the cliff and falling toward the river by the power of the hit,” he explained, grimacing against the returning images of pain it brought him. He hoped Legolas had survived the battle, he hoped they all had.

“I saw you get hit and flew in to catch you. I got careless,” self-criticism was evident in her voice as she explained further. “I heard the arrows as they flew through the air too late and two hit me. I did manage to get to you and dampen both of our falls but I remember little from when I hit the water. Next thing I remember clearly is waking up on the shoreline alone. I dressed my wounds and began to search for you. I found you a little upstream with your horse beside you. I bandaged your wounds and tried to wake you. For a moment I thought I had lost you; you kept calling for Arwen but then you came around,” Ororo explained, relief at seeing him relatively well clear in her voice as she tried to keep dark memories she had felt at the time from resurfacing; memories of her pain and fear of losing him and being left alone in an unknown land. It had been hell to live through once, fearing he was dead or dying and being unable to help; she had no wish to relive that moment again as a memory. Already she had nightmares about the killings of Orcs she had been forced to do while staying here, breaking her oath never to take a life as well as nightmares of the first time she had been shot down by Orcs; she feared this experience would compete to become her new worst nightmare.

“Thank you. I am indebted to you,” Aragorn said softly, his breath warm against her neck.

“No thanks needed between friends,” she said gracefully.

They rode for a while in silence.

“Do you…do you think the others made it?” she voiced their common fear out loud. She hoped Scott, Rogue and Logan were all right. Rogue had been different, yet not necessarily in a bad way since she had touched Gandalf; she had seemed more powerful and that thought brought Ororo comfort. She just hoped she was dealing with it all okay. To suddenly have so much power could be hard to adjust to. Her thoughts went to Legolas. She prayed he was alive and well. Could an Elf even be injured? What if he was? She hadn’t seen any old, ill or handicapped Elves when they had been in Rivendell. Did Elves choose to die instead of living on with a disability if they got disabled in battle?

“The battle was winnable and they are all great warriors,” Aragorn offered the only comfort he could think of, not wanting to lie to her. Of all the strangers she was probably the one he trusted most for she reminded him of the Elven people in so many ways from her grace and beauty to her quiet ways and healing touch. Not only that, she seemed like a good and honest woman as well as a fantastic warrior. All in all possessing qualities he greatly admired.

She nodded, taking any strength from his words that she could.

“Tell me more about Legolas,” she asked him, wanting to chase away her dark fears and know more about the Elven Prince she had come to care so deeply for.

“I grew up in Rivendell with Lord Elrond but I met Legolas at an early age,” Aragorn began, thinking back and smiling as the warm memories returned to him. “We became friends.”

Ororo had to smile at that. Aragorn wasn’t very specific or informative but then she hadn’t expected him to be. She didn’t think it was because he didn’t trust her; he was just a silent man by nature.

“He was a grown man when you first met him?” she figured she had to ask more precise questions to get something out of the young King.

“He was.”

“He didn’t mind you were human?” she asked curiously. She had thankfully rarely, but still on occasion felt some people’s prejudice due to the colour of her skin as well as her mutation and had to know if there were such feelings in this place. Besides Boromir and Aragorn she practically hadn’t seen any other humans in Rivendell during their stay.

“He did not, though I think a lot of it was because I did not act like he expected a human would,” Aragorn said thoughtfully as memories returned to him. All those times as a young boy where he hadn’t understood why he hadn’t had pointed ears, the surprised looks some Elves gave him and then when he had later travelled to human Kingdoms the alienation he had felt there. He had been caught between two worlds and two cultures and felt he didn’t quite fit into either. He was human but felt Elfish, had been raised like an Elf…yet still he was expected to become a human King.

“How did you act?” she asked softly, understanding in her voice.

“I was a quiet but curious child. Respectful, obedient…observant,” he recalled, thinking back to many hours spent reading, studying the Elves to try and imitate them or simply enjoying the beauty of nature in Rivendell.

“Did you speak Elfish as a child?” she figured he had but still wanted to know. She found it a beautiful language and would love to learn it some time.

“Yes. I didn’t learn any human tongue until I was a grown man and visited human Kingdoms.” In fact he hadn’t even seen another human before then if he didn’t count Gandalf who had visited at least once a year during all his childhood years.

“It must have been hard. To be a human in an Elfish world,” she said insightfully.

“No more so than having an Elfish soul in a human world, I am sure,” Aragorn said with equal insight and she had to smile at that. “In some ways it was, in others it was not,” he admitted, surprising her a bit by answering her question. “The Elfish culture has always suited me well. The grace, patience, admiration for beauty…solitude,” he explained and she nodded. Yes, she could well see why he had taken so easily to the Elfish world.

“You said you didn’t act like Legolas thought humans would,” she reminded him.

“Not just Legolas. Elves generally find humans irrational, hot-tempered, ill mannered and a very violent and war loving race of people.”

She nodded grimly. It was sadly often true; in his world as well as her own.

“Yet you certainly won Legolas over. He speaks only praise of you and defends you at every corner.” The love Legolas felt for his bond brother was clear to see for everyone but she had always wondered how come their bond was so strong.

“I first met Legolas when I was still a young child. He was fascinated with me as Elves rarely deal with children and even more so because my actions were so similar to the Elves I lived with. He visited often and we became like brothers. Later we would ride together, saving each other’s lives in battle or from the elements when hunting. He said to me that though I was human on the outside I had the spirit of an Elf and that he in me saw a great leader. Therefore he pledged to support me,” his tone was warm and soft, telling Ororo how much Legolas’ friendship meant to him.

“When did you fall in love with Arwen?” she asked curiously, remembering how he had called for her earlier.

“From the moment I first saw her as a child. She was the first female Elf I ever saw and she was like a vision of grace, beauty and kindness. I have loved her ever since,” his voice and eyes spoke of love yet also pain for he feared he would never see his beloved again. Only in dreams and memories…that was all he had left now.

Ororo smiled to herself. Aragorn’s tale of love reminded her of Scott and his love for Jean. Thinking of love…her thoughts returned to Legolas and she had to ask.

“Has Legolas ever…had someone?” she blurted the last part out, blushing. She knew it was stupid, it didn’t matter anyway but somehow it did matter and she found herself holding her breath as Aragorn began to speak.

“In all the years I have known him I have never seen him take a lover,” Aragorn admitted. Though he knew that in the more than 6000 years Legolas had lived he had had several lovers he also knew none of them had been the one the Elven prince had been searching for; the other part of his soul.

Ororo couldn’t hide a warm smile from spreading over her lips. She knew this was insane. Even if she made it through all the fighting she would have to part from him but she couldn’t help herself. He was everything she had ever wished for in a man. He was kind, graceful, in tune with nature, elegant, brave, considerate, he fought for a good cause…how could she not love him? Suddenly her mind caught up with her. Wait a minute…love? Did she truly love him? Hadn’t her declaration as she had thought she was dying from the Orcs’ arrows just been a last minute impulsive act, an act you only do if you know you will not have to face the consequences of them? She called his image to her and saw him before her mind’s eye; strong, brave… with warmth and care for her shining in his eyes. Yes, she did love him. She smiled to herself over her own happiness. As soon as she returned, if all was well and Legolas was there…she would tell him how she felt. Even if they had to part he should know that she would be leaving a piece of herself with him. _Please, let him be okay_ , she prayed silently. She couldn’t lose him now before she had had the chance to tell him how much he meant to her.

“Do you love Legolas?” Aragorn’s question, softly spoken but with an important air to it interrupted her thoughts. He had tried not to consider Legolas and Ororo’s relationship too much but with time he had seen them grow closer and closer and now he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Yes.”

Her answer was fast and without doubt and Aragorn fought between sorrow and happiness at hearing her answer. He hated to do what he had to do now; he really liked Ororo and he hated the thought of hurting her but he saw no other way. He had feared this for a long time and now there was no denying the danger his beloved bond brother was in. A danger he would shield him from even if it meant hurting Ororo and shielding Legolas from his own heart.

“If all goes well…you will leave these lands,” his voice was filed with pain and hurt and she knew he was thinking of his forced departure from Arwen.

“Yes,” she admitted, her heart breaking just at the thought. No, she refused to dwell on that now. For all she knew there might not be a tomorrow. She wanted to give him the love she could while she had the time; she wanted to have this wonderful and special feeling for as long as it was possible.

“Then you must leave him now,” Aragorn’s voice was low and pain-filled and for a moment she was sure she had heard him wrong. She suddenly wished she could see his face but it was impossible as he sat behind her.

“What do you mean?” her fear of loss made her voice harder and more demanding than she had intended. Didn’t he trust her? Wasn’t she good enough for his friend? Was it because she wasn’t of noble blood? She had been worshipped as a Goddess; didn’t that count for something? Her thoughts were running away with her, one idea and suspicion replacing another in less than a second.

“Do you know how Elves can die?” he asked her softly.

She frowned. What did that have to do with anything?

“Yes. If they’re slain in battle or from…” suddenly she knew where this was heading and she had to strangle down a sob, “grief.” The last word was as a curse as it left her tongue, so softly spoken she wasn’t sure if he had heard her.

“He has begun to care deeply for you. Were he to lose you….” Aragorn let the rest remain unsaid but she knew what he meant.

“He could die. I could kill him,” she realized with silent dread. Shock and pain was in her face and eyes as tears fell down her cheeks like rain. Had she been so selfish in her need and her love that she hadn’t thought of the risk to him?

“I do not think it is too late. Pull away now while there is still time,” Aragorn calmed her; his distaste in having to ask this of her was clear in his voice. He had noticed how happy Legolas always was around Ororo and wished nothing more than for his friend to be happy but Ororo would leave quicker than any other mortal he could have chosen, giving him little time in which to prepare and leaving him open to sorrow and grief. He loved Legolas as a brother and would always protect him…even from himself if need be. He would come to no harm if Aragorn had anything to say in such matters.

“I…understand. I will…let him go,” she forced the words out, her voice and vision blurred by tears. God, she felt like her heart was breaking into a million pieces. How could the world be so cruel? After so long she had finally found love only to have to give it up again. Finally…she had actually been happy. For the first time in years…she had been happy.

“He can never know you love him for if he does he will never let you go,” Aragorn warned softly, sadly.

Not even that would she have…he would never know. She sobbed, fighting to regain control but was unable to. Not only did she have to leave him...he would never know the love she felt for him; he would always think her one declaration of love was nothing but a human’s last desperate words. He would never know that she did love him…a love she was sure she would always bear for him.

“He will never know,” she mumbled softly, dying inside a little at a time. Elves might be able to die from a broken heart but right now she would have preferred if humans could too for by the Goddess the pain she felt inside was tearing her apart.

“You will find someone else,” Aragorn tried to comfort, hating to see her this unhappy.

She nodded yet in that moment they both knew he was lying; there would never be anyone new for her. No one could ever replace Legolas in her heart; not now and not ever. No one would ever be able to measure up to him in her mind or heart. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. If she couldn’t have Legolas, if she was to be denied true love…she would have none at all.

They continued on in silence, the air only broken by Ororo’s soft tears until her tears finally dried out, leaving behind an agony in the depths of her brown eyes which she doubted would ever leave. _Whoever had said that loving and losing was better than not having loved at all had obviously never lost_ , Ororo thought bitterly as her heart died a little more by each second. The thought of facing Legolas again, knowing she had to give him up, not even being able to tell him why or that she loved him…She could imagine no greater torture.


	22. Book 2: Chapter 10: Do You Believe In Miracles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo and Aragorn are reunited with the fellowship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for this week's last big update. I hope someone enjoys it in these hard times.  
> If you liked it then I would love it if you left kudos and a comment. It would make my day so please do consider it; even just an emoji. Thank you. :)

### Chapter 10: Do You Believe In Miracles?

He wasn’t sure how to fix things and that was very frustrating to say the least. Logan ran a hand through his hair and tried to control his temper. Not only was there no one around to beat up to get rid of his rage, but Rogue wasn’t nearby to calm him down either. She had awakened when they had reached Helm’s Deep and was now helping Eowyn calm down the townspeople as well as try and organise care for the wounded. King Théoden and his men had left the shattered remains of the Fellowship to try and find out ways to strengthen their defences. This had left him to try and lift Scott and Legolas’ moods, which was the hardest task he had ever given himself. He wasn’t very good at showing emotions or discussing them. He mourned his friends, Ororo the most because she had been his friend for a long time and he had come to care deeply for her, but his unnatural long life had taught him how to deal with sorrow. Death was a final thing and couldn’t be changed. The dead could be mourned but life had to go on. Cold as that might sound it was what had made him capable of living for so long while losing so much.

Officially Gimli, Legolas, Scott and he were on guard duty. They walked around on the high walls of Helm’s Deep, trying to spot any approaching enemy though Logan was sure that Legolas and Scott also foolishly hoped to see Ororo or Aragorn magically appear over the green hill filled plains. However, unofficially, there was nothing much to do. The enemy was still some time away if he was indeed approaching them, which they all had a bad feeling he was. That left them with time to spare for thoughts, regrets and memories.

The sky was as dark as the mood between them and few words were spoken. Gimli tried to lighten Legolas’ mood with exaggerated grumpy behaviour or other things the Elf would normally find amusing but nothing helped. Though he hadn’t given the Dwarf many thoughts, Logan felt sorry for him now as he tried with almost fanatic eagerness to lift his friend’s spirits. Logan had to admit he was more than a little concerned himself. He didn’t know how much grief was enough to make an Elf die, or how long it would take. Could Legolas already be at risk now? He had tried to ask Gimli but since Dwarfs in general disliked Elves as much as the tall and immortal creatures disliked them both races knew very little about the others’ way of life and so by implication also the ways they could die.

His worry for Scott was different. Scott had gone into total emotionally cold and closed off leader mode. He calculated weak points in the building, the possibility that they would win or lose a battle, how many men they would need, how many men they could take on and came up with one strategy after another. He kept fanatically busy, saying he had no time to calm down, eat or take a rest. His body already showed signs of the emotional and physical strain Scott was putting on it and Logan began to wonder if it was possible for young men to get strokes because Scott seemed determined to work himself toward one. If he tried to talk about Ororo and Aragorn with Legolas the Elf closed him off with an arrogant air and claimed as a non-Elf he would never understand. Logan knew he lashed out only in pain but Logan still got frustrated and annoyed over his dismissal. Scott pretended not to hear him if he mentioned either of them.

Logan was determined not to lose more friends; not now not ever. But he wasn’t sure how to go about ensuring that didn’t happen. He had talked with Rogue and she had tried talking with them as well and had also been dismissed. She had suggested giving them time, but what if they didn’t have time? It wasn’t just Scott and Legolas who worried him in that regard; Rogue was also a lot on his mind. The amazing powers she had displayed in the earlier battle, such strength and magic…. He had been so proud of her and all she had been able to do for them but greatly worried as well. She claimed she was all right, but using her powers had obviously strained her body a lot. She wasn’t used to using magic. What if her body couldn’t handle it?

A Rohan warrior came to him and disturbed his inner musings. The guard told him they could go back inside the castle; someone else would take over guard duty. Logan hadn’t even realised so much time had passed. Back inside Legolas remained silent and thoughtful, while Scott attacked a map on a wooden table, trying to find even more ways on how to defend and attack in different scenarios. Scott had expressed concern over their position and Logan couldn’t argue there. From what he had seen of Helm’s Deep this would be a dead trap if an army big enough attacked and if anything Sauron seemed to have Orcs by the thousands so that shouldn’t be a problem. The walls around them were too weak and there were too many weak and blind spots. They had a large wooden and breakable gate that lead into the yard. There were weak spots where the walls had fallen in a little. They had poor vision over the plains in some areas, they had women and children with them to protect and worry about who would take up supplies but couldn’t fight for them. They already had a lot of wounded as it was and they had limited supplies of food, medicine and weapons. He agreed wholehearted with Scott that leading the people here didn’t seem like the brightest idea.

“Logan!” Rogue came running through the large stone hall, interrupting his thoughts. When she reached him she threw herself into his arms, a large smile playing over her lips and a warm look in her eyes. He closed his arms around her in a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head before he looked up and saw Eowyn coming toward him as well, more dignified though she couldn’t hide the gleam of happiness in her eyes nor the smile that played around her lips.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked her puzzled, hoping against hopes. Could it be…? Gimli, Legolas and Scott moved toward Logan to see what the fuss was about just as Eowyn had reached him as well. Eowyn smiled happily at Scott and instinctually he smiled back.

_Now I know who I should have sent to help Scott_ , Logan thought a little amused as he looked at the warm looks between the Rohan princess and his friend. He had no concerns in that regard. Scott would never betray his wife - of that Logan was sure - but in this hard time he did deserve someone to feel good with, even if it stayed with a feeling.

“You should begin to believe in miracles, sugah,” Rogue said warmly and just as she had said it the large wooden double doors to the room was opened wide and in walked….

“Aragorn!” Legolas whispered the name as a prayer so softly only those who stood nearest to him could hear it. His hand went to Aragorn’s necklace, which lay around his neck. It had seemed to be weighting him down ever since he had picked it up; now it felt as light as a feather. His eyes were as glued to his beloved friend; Aragorn looked a little worse for wear but he was alive and well!

“Ororo?” Scott pushed himself in front of the others, hoping, praying…. Suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway behind Aragorn, her eyes and face tired and holding a pained glow but she lit up when she saw the others.

“You’re well,” she said relieved, her eyes touching all of her friends in turn.

“Ororo!” Without thinking Scott ran across the room and scooped his friend up into his arms and began to spin her around, laughing and smiling happily, returning to the land of the living for the first time since he had thought her lost. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”

Ororo couldn’t help it; she began to laugh out loud as she laid her arms around his neck. The others came toward Ororo and Legolas as well. Rogue and Eowyn stuck close to Ororo while Gimli, Legolas and Logan greeted Aragorn. The entire room was alive with joy and happiness, relief and hope.

*You are late, * Legolas said softly in Elfish, his tone speaking the volumes of love and joy he felt at this moment even if his words did not. Aragorn gave him a warm smile before he drew his bond brother into a warm embrace. As they drew apart Legolas took off Arwen’s necklace and put it back around Aragorn’s neck. The young King’s eyes got a little misty as he caressed the jewel that meant so much to him or rather the woman it represented in his heart. First now did Legolas give himself time to really look at the young King and he got a mildly worried look in his eyes as he took in his appearance; the torn and dirty clothes and all his cuts and scratches. “You look terrible.”

  
Logan laughed at the Elf’s words, relief evident in his eyes and face. His friends were okay. All of his friends! He shook Aragorn’s hand warmly.

“Good to have you back. We were beginning to draw straws for the position as King of Gondor.” Like Legolas his tone spoke of stronger and deeper concern than his words said.

Aragorn smiled and nodded. Then Gimli promptly embraced him, or rather his stomach and legs. Aragorn carefully drew back and bent on one knee and embraced the Dwarf properly before he drew back.

“Must have something stuck in me eye,” the Dwarf grunted as they drew apart and the others smiled. Aragorn stood up again. In the meantime Scott had finally released his grip on Ororo who had then been immediately captured in new embraces, this time from Eowyn and Rogue. As the women drew back Legolas approached her. Scott noticed with concern and confusion Ororo’s shifting emotions from joy to deep sorrow at seeing the Elven prince.

“I thought I had lost you, nîn meleth,” Legolas breathed in softly, his eyes bright with suppressed tears as he looked at her. She couldn’t help herself; she had to make sure he was all right. She let a hand softly caress his cheek and he leaned into the touch before he took her hand and softly kissed her palm.

“Legolas. Oh, Legolas. I…” she began, fighting back tears but a few escaped her eyes anyway.

“Shh. Do not cry,” he whispered softly and gently wiped her tears away with an elegant finger and she thought she should die from his soft caress. She loved him; every fibre in her being cried to embrace him and kiss him but then her eyes met Aragorn’s and she saw pain for her but also knowledge in them; a warning. She forced herself to draw back, trying not to look into his deep blue eyes that looked confused at her at her withdrawal.

“I’m well,” she mumbled and was thankful when Logan came to her and embraced her tightly, giving her an excuse not to speak any more words to the Elven prince. Goddess, it was so hard to hurt him like this. She could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes and it felt like knives stuck through her own chest. Was this really necessary? Did she have to hurt him? Did she have to break her own heart so cruelly? She recalled all too clearly her conversation with Aragorn and knew she had no choice; she couldn’t put him in danger. She couldn’t! His life was worth more than her happiness; was worth more than anything.

“We saw Sauron’s army on the way here. They will be here within a day, two at the most,” Aragorn’s warning broke through the joyful reunion and brought worry and concern back to their minds.

“We feared as much,” Scott admitted grimly.

“It is good to have you back, Aragorn,” Eowyn said warmly and took his hand on his uninjured side in hers for a little while. “Your return will inspire the men.”

  
”And they’ll need it. We have more wounded soldiers here than battle ready ones.” Logan’s voice was grim.

“How many Orcs do you gather will come?” Scott broke in and walked over to the map he had borrowed from one of the Rohan warriors. The others followed him.

“Thousands.”

  
Several gave shocked grasps. They couldn’t hold that many Orcs back and they all knew it.

“That’s too many. We can’t hold this position long without reinforcements,” Scott voiced the concern they all had.

“We need to get ready. We are not giving in without a fight,” Eowyn said strongly. Rogue nodded grimly. Without anyone’s knowledge she had sought out Gandalf on her own to ask him about her new powers; a mimic of his own. He had admitted that he had touched her on purpose to give her some of his magic but he had also given her a warning. Like with all the powers she absorbed his magic would fade in a few days’ time and grow weaker by the hour. He had himself felt the strain of giving some of his magic to her and a repeat was not possible. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to defend her friends more directly than she would ever be able to again. For a few days still she would possess stronger powers than she ever had and a part of her was saddened to know she would lose them again even though she had expected as much; none of the powers she stole lasted forever. A dark and hidden part of her was tempted to steal all of Gandalf’s powers but it was a voice she fought to silence; not only would she never be able to win a fight with Gandalf even if she tried now while she still had some of his magic but she wouldn’t take a life of a friend and ally to gain power beyond her wildest dreams, tempting as it might sound. Gandalf had warned her further that though she shouldn’t get any ill effects from her brief use of his magic he wasn’t mortal and she was. He had never tried anything like this before and he wasn’t sure what the strong magic might do to her mind and body. She had to admit that since she had used her new powers she had had strange dreams of fire that she couldn’t understand and she had had a terrible headache. The most notable change though was that she found her self-confidence connected to her strength and that she was tempted by so much power. She wouldn’t listen to that voice that promised her such strength but…before she had gotten Gandalf’s magic she would never have been tempted by the prospect of power. Now that she knew how good it felt to be so powerful it was hard to give it up. From what Aragorn had just told her she was happy to know she would still have her powers when the army of Sauron attacked but she knew that should she survive the battle she would loose them a few days later and this knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth. Still, knowing this only made her more determined than ever to fight like never before; to make a stand and defend her friends as strongly as she could with her borrowed abilities.

“Maybe if we gave everyone weapons, also the women and any children old enough to hold one?” Logan suggested.

“I doubt it would be of use if they don’t know how to use them,” Ororo protested, not liking the idea of children carrying arms.

“I agree with Ororo but I would still have given them arms if we had enough,” Scott admitted, sliding back into a natural leader role which Aragorn gratefully let him take; too exhausted to fight over such trivial issues when they were in agreement about what had to be done. “As it is we have few resources and should give arms to all men and boys who can carry them and know how to fight.”

“We need to get the women and children to safety. When Aragorn and I came here I saw what must be caves around here, under the castle which should be the safest place to be during a battle. I will talk with the King of Rohan and arrange to have the children and women moved there,” Ororo said, eyeing an opportunity to get away from Legolas. It was torture beyond words to be so close to him and force herself not to touch him. The others nodded in agreement to her words. With a last look at Legolas she tore herself free and walked out of the room, Legolas following her with his eyes until she disappeared from sight.

“Okay, good. So, we need someone to arrange for weapons to the soldiers,” Scott began.

“We can do that,” Rogue pointed to her and Eowyn who nodded agreement.

“Okay.”

At Scott’s word of consent the two women disappeared out of the room to begin their tasks, still smiling slightly at their friends’ miracle return despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Someone needs to check on the wounded and give any man well enough to handle a weapon a sword and send him on his way,” Aragorn said seriously. He eyed Legolas with a worried look. “Legolas and I will do so.”

Scott nodded and the two long time friends disappeared together as Scott began to talk defences with Logan, sending Gimli out to find King Théoden so they could co-ordinate their ideas.

* * *

Aragorn and Legolas began checking the wounded in silence, only speaking what they had to. As a Healer it was easy for Aragorn to see which of the soldiers would be fit for duty and send them on their way to find Rogue and Eowyn to get weapons. He cast worried looks Legolas’ way but the Elf remained silent though Aragorn clearly felt something was troubling him.

*I have known you for many years now; I know when you are troubled. Tell me what haunts your thoughts, my friend, * Aragorn purposely spoke in Elfish to keep their conversation private even though they weren’t alone. He hoped the Elf wasn’t deeply concerned about Ororo. Though she had pulled back she hadn’t said anything to him. Maybe if she just slowly slipped out of his life, he wouldn’t feel any pain and so he would be safe.

Legolas looked thoughtful for a while; debating with himself whether or not he should explain.

*What am I doing here? * The question was softly spoken but held an edge of pain and fear as he looked at Aragorn as if expecting him to grant him a miracle. Aragorn looked seriously at him, a worried look in his eyes.

*What do you mean? *

*Here, in the middle of a mortal conflict. Here, in the middle of so much…death, * he almost choked on the last word and suddenly Aragorn understood what was wrong. Every living thing feared death but Elves who had the opportunity to live forever…they feared dying even more. Though strong warriors the Elven people had never liked battle, wars and bloodshed. All this combined with almost losing Ororo and him who was Legolas’ bond brother….

*You will not die here, brother. I will not let you, * Aragorn vowed, his eyes sure and warm. He went to his friend who stood surrounded by wounded men and looked very lost. Aragorn put his uninjured hand on his friend’s shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. *I will not lose you, * he said strongly, with clear certainty.

A weak smile spread over Legolas’ lips.

*But you cannot truly control that, can you? * He asked softly and they both knew he was right. Unsure of what else to do Aragorn embraced his friend, holding him close and safe.

*I will look out for you. If I am to die I will feel proud to say it happened with my bond brother by my side, fighting with and for my people, * Aragorn said softly as he drew back, fighting back tears. He had to be strong now. He had to lead by example and be a strong leader for all to follow; he couldn’t ever break down in front of others, no matter what pain he felt was tearing in his heart and soul. No matter the shock of his near death experience or his own fear of dying and of losing loved ones.

*I…. I do not wish to die, * Legolas admitted softly, his eyes more scared than Aragorn had ever seen them before.

“We will not die here,” Aragorn said strongly for all to hear and some of the soldiers who stood nearby nodded and mumbled their agreement to his statement. “None of us will.”

Though still afraid Legolas’ fears had settled a little by Aragorn’s support and understanding. He smiled warmly at the human; being reminded why he cared so much for him.

*Thank you, brother,* Legolas said softly and bowed his head in gratitude and respect before meeting his eyes again.

Aragorn smiled fondly at his friend.

“Anytime.”

He hadn’t said that he too was afraid of dying, that he wished only to be with Arwen and that he was sick and tired of fighting and of people dying. He couldn’t admit to such feelings. He had to stay strong. It was going to be a long and hard battle and he just hoped that they would all make it through alive…or be granted a quick and honourable death.


	23. Book 2: Chapter 11: Brothers Of Gondor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir and Faramir are reunited.

### Chapter 11: Brothers Of Gondor

He wasn’t sure what he had expected when Phoenix had said she would take him to his brother but he hadn’t expected to be carried by his torturer while she flew through the air. Not only was the fact that he was flying more than a little disturbing, but depending on his tormentor for safety was enough to make him shiver. Having to put his arms around her neck and hold on to her voluntarily, when all he wanted to do was get as far away from her as possible as memories of his torture played before his eyes, was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

“Will you stop that? You’re still alive so it can’t be **that** bad,” Phoenix complained irritated at his thoughts and the involuntary shivers of fear his body couldn’t stop as it recalled all the pain she had inflicted upon him.

Phoenix turned her attention downward as she searched the land below her to find Faramir and the Ring, having seen what Faramir looked like in Boromir’s mind. Tearing down Boromir’s mental defences had been child play to a skilled telepath like her and the more secrets he had tried to hide from her the more painful her mental search had been but the result had still been the same; no none-telepath could shield indefinitely from her and especially not one who had never learnt how to shield. Still, his love and concern as well as his determination and stubbornness not to betray anyone else had given Boromir far better shields than she had expected. Cleverly his mental shields had gone from an image of wood, to icon and finally to water against the fire of her mental invasion. The brief struggle for control had amused her and therefore she had allowed him to keep his mind intact, only seeing but not changing anything. Her thoughts turned to the present, as they come up on Osgiliath, its stonewalls lying bathed in the last rays of the evening sun.

Boromir forced himself to relax in Phoenix’s embrace, fascinated against himself to see his homeland of Gondor from this new angle. He couldn’t contain his joy at the thought of getting to see his beloved brother again. Phoenix found her goal and they descended at the part of the outpost closest to Mordor and therefore the furthest away from any praying eyes. When Boromir’s feet touched the ground he sighed in relief; finally able to let go of her.

“Come. Your brother is this way,” Phoenix ordered and began to walk through the battle worn outpost. For a moment Boromir stood frozen to the spot, remembering with bittersweetness fighting to reclaim this outpost, remembering his brother’s joy at seeing him well from the battle. An irritated noise from Phoenix tore him back to reality and Boromir quickly caught up with her. They began to pass by Gondorian soldiers who looked in surprise at seeing a woman and then one dressed in pants instead of a dress. Their surprise and shock intensified when they looked at him as Phoenix and him passed them by. Though out of uniform and only wearing plain brown pants and a tight shirt, plain boots and no coat or weapons, there was no mistaking he was still Boromir. His walk and attitude was less demanding and arrogant but it still spoke of strength and command.

When Boromir turned a corner, walking after Phoenix, he saw him; his brother. Boromir breathed in sharply. Faramir had his back turned to him but he would have recognised him anywhere. There were several officers beside him and he could see Frodo, Sam and a very strange looking creature having been pushed down to sit in a corner of what he assumed had once been a house. Now only a few walls still stood.

“Captain-General!” One of the officers spotted him and promptly saluted. Boromir waved at him to make him stop but too late. Everyone’s eyes got directed at him. As in slow motion he saw Faramir turn around to face him. His expression changed from curiosity and slight annoyance at being disturbed, to pure shock and then joy beyond words.

“Boromir,” Faramir whispered the word as if it was a prayer, as if he was afraid that if he spoke it too loudly he’d disappear. Caught up in the moment, his entire attention only on his brother, Boromir didn’t notice the dangerous smile that spread over Phoenix’s lips nor how she silently melted back into the shadows to observe her victory in peace.

“My brother,” he wasn’t aware of the tears in his eyes before they began to run down his cheeks. The uniform suited Faramir well though he looked tired, worn and had a pained look deep in his eyes. Then Faramir began to smile widely as if he had witnessed a miracle, looking at him the way he always had; with love and admiration in his eyes and suddenly he looked much younger, the pain gone from his face and eyes like clouds from the sun.

“You were dead,” Faramir got out, afraid to believe it was real in fear he would disappear again. Boromir took a step closer to Faramir, blocking everything else out but him and this moment. He pretended for a few seconds that he couldn’t see the fear that had showed up in Frodo’s eyes at his appearance and the angry and protective movements Sam did as he shielded his friend from him as Frodo, Sam and the creature had all risen when he had appeared.

“I am back. It is really me,” he laughed in happiness, not holding back his tears. It was incredible, insane…yet here he was.

“Boromir!” Faramir covered the rest of the distance between them and threw his arms around him, holding on to him as if for dear life. Boromir closed his arms around his brother and mumbled calming words to him as he had when they had been children.

“It’s alright now. Everything’s alright,” he mumbled and he could feel his brother’s tears of relief and joy more than he could hear them. After what felt like an eternity they reluctantly drew apart. Boromir fondly wiped the last traces of tears away from his brother’s cheeks.

“Did I not always tell you that a great warrior never cries?” he asked softly and Faramir smiled warmly, pretending not to notice the clean trails down his older brother’s cheeks that gave away he too had cried.

“My heart has never known such joy as it does in this hour but I am puzzled as to how this is possible,” Faramir admitted, a warm smile still playing at the corners of his lips. Boromir grew serious and looked around him but couldn’t spot his tormentor anywhere. He wasn’t so naive as to believe it meant she wasn’t watching him though. Boromir laid an arm around Faramir’s shoulder and walked with him a little closer to where Frodo, Sam and the creature still stood, following his every move with their eyes. The officers still looked shocked at the brothers, confused and perplexed as how to react.

“I admit I too am at a loss to explain it properly but I am here and it is really me,” Boromir began to explain and Faramir smiled relieved. “However,” he warned. “My return is connected to the Ring.”

  
”The Ring?” Faramir frowned concerned but then said with a relieved air, “I have the Ring here. The Hobbit over there...” Faramir pointed at Frodo and was to walk toward him but Boromir stopped him with a hard grip around his arm. His eyes briefly met and held Frodo’s before he turned back to his brother.

“No! Do not go anywhere near it. That thing, no matter how small, is pure evil. Leave it be,” Boromir warned harshly, fighting back memories of his betrayal, dishonour and death.

“Are you sure? I would have given it to father and…” Faramir began to explain.

“He will never love you no matter what you do!” Boromir interrupted angrily, afraid Faramir might make a mistake in his eagerness to please their father. His hard words visibly shocked his brother as Boromir had rarely raised his voice in anger against his little brother in all their years together. Boromir immediately regretted his action as he saw the hurt in his brother’s eyes. He released his grip on him and stepped a little back. “I am sorry, brother. I did not mean it that way.”

“Yes, you did, “ Faramir nodded, no anger in his voice. “And you are right. He will never love me,” it tore at Boromir’s heart to hear such hurt in Faramir’s voice as he said it.

“Then he does not deserve your affection,” Boromir said softly and Faramir smiled warmly at him, before a thought occurred to him.

“The Hobbits led me to believe you had tried to claim the Ring yourself. I did not believe so…” Faramir began certainly, proudly.

Boromir indicated with a hand that he should fall silent and his brother did so. This was the hard part; to admit his weakness to his brother.

“The Little Ones speaks truth. I did attack Frodo. I did betray my oath to protect him,” Boromir admitted sadly, regret and shame clear in his voice and in every line in his face. Faramir looked shocked at him, disbelieving. Boromir walked past him and knelt a little away from Frodo and Sam, not getting too close as to not frighten them more than he already had. He looked past Sam’s judgmental and hateful look and found and held Frodo’s pained and fearful glance. “I would ask your forgiveness but I have no right to do so. Know this though, that only the Ring made me act as I did and had I only been stronger, not believed that the Ring could save Gondor…I would never had harmed you in any way,” his voice was sincere and heartfelt. Frodo seemed to see something in Boromir he could now understand because he pulled free from Sam’s protective shielding and stood before Boromir, their eyes meeting.

“Mister Frodo!” Sam protested but Frodo ignored him.

“I now know the great pain you fought to try and rid yourself of the foul whispers of the Ring. I do forgive you though there is naught to forgive,” Frodo spoke in honest and with great strength.

Boromir couldn’t keep a relieved and happy sigh from escaping his lips. He had the utmost admiration for the young Hobbit for being able to resist the Ring this long.

“I can never thank you enough,” he wanted to embrace or touch the Hobbit to show his gratitude but decided against it. He wore the Ring and he had no intention of tempting fate a second time around.

Faramir laid a hand on Boromir’s shoulder and his brother rose. “You need to know...” Faramir began and Boromir looked at him, holding his breath as he tried to prepare himself to hear his brother’s judgement. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive his brother’s hate and contempt. “I understand. “ Boromir smiled happily at those words and hugged his brother tight as relief flowed through him.

“Thank you,” he said softly as they drew apart, lacking words to say how much that meant to him.

“What you did you did for Gondor and you have admitted the error of your judgement. That is not weakness but strength,” Faramir said seriously and Boromir nodded in gratitude, a lump in his throat. They stood in relieved and comfortable silence for a little while until Boromir broke it with a serious expression and tone.

“You need to let the Hobbits go, brother. They need to destroy the Ring.”

Faramir nodded, happy to see his brother back and ready to control Gondor with the love and strength he had always possessed.

“It shall be as you say,” Faramir turned to look at the Hobbits. “I am sorry I did not follow my heart from the beginning. You are free to leave,” he looked at his officers who had managed to pull themselves together a little more. “Let the Hobbits pass. Show them the fastest and safest way to Mordor.”

One of his officers came to him and spoke softly but warningly, eyeing Boromir nervously, not at all sure if he really was who he claimed to be.

“If you do this your father will let your life be forfeit. He wants the Ring,” the officer reminded him.

Faramir didn’t draw back nor look scared in the least and Boromir felt a great sense of pride at his brother’s strength.

“Then my life is forfeited. The Ring leaves.” He turned to the Hobbits. “Go now and may your journey be a successful one.”

The Hobbits began to disappear with Gollum through the battling city, letting one of the officers show them on their way.

Boromir turned from looking after the Hobbits to the officer.

“If our father asks you can say I let the Ring go; let him say my life is forfeited.”

The officer saluted Boromir and returned to stand at a respectful distance from the brothers.

“No,” Faramir protested.

“It is alright, brother. I am already dead,” Boromir explained softly.

“What do you mean?” Faramir demanded to know; worry and dread showing in every line of his face. He had seen Boromir’s body but now that Boromir stood before him again he had been sure the sight of his brother’s body had been nothing more than another of Sauron’s evil schemes. He couldn’t just have been given his brother back only to lose him again. It wasn’t fair!

“My life is connected to the Ring. As it is destroyed so am I,” Boromir explained quietly, having accepted this. As all creatures he wished to live but not at the price of another betrayal. He could not and would not do that again.

“Then we will get the Ring back,” Faramir said hotly, trying to go after the Hobbits but Boromir held him back. “Let me go! Let me go!” he fought to get free but Boromir stood firm.

“Let it go, brother. It is the right thing to do; the honourable thing to do.”

Faramir stopped his struggles and went still in Boromir’s embrace, fighting tears. Boromir embraced him tightly, fighting tears of his own. It wasn’t fair to be given this chance and then to see it disappear again but it was how it had to be.

Faramir drew back and when he looked at his brother there was strength and love shining in his eyes.

“I….” Whatever Faramir had wanted to say was caught short as Phoenix suddenly flew in and landed right before the brothers. Faramir looked shocked at her. “What in…” He didn’t get any further before she had backhanded him with such force he fell to the ground and laid still; unconscious.

“Faramir!” Boromir knelt beside his brother and was relieved to find that he had a strong and steady pulse. Before the officers had time to react she knocked them out against nearby walls and stones with a wave of her hand, sending them too into unconsciousness.

“I gave you a simple task,” she roared, fire shining in her green eyes as she advanced on Boromir. He quickly stood and began to draw back from her, wanting her as far away from his brother as possible.

“I had failed once, I could not do so again,” his voice wasn’t as strong as he had hoped it would be as his body clearly remembered the pain she could inflict. As if she had read his mind, which he was sure she had, she motioned toward him with her hand and agony began to run through his entire body and his legs gave way under him as he fell to the ground. He couldn’t keep from screaming out loud in pain, twisting and curling up in a ball. She advanced on him, a cruel smile playing over her lips.

“All you had to do was act selfishly; save your own life. Do as you were told. Why couldn’t you just do that?” with her anger and displeasure his agony increased though he had thought it impossible. “You have ruined everything! Everything!” He couldn’t answer, could only scream out in pain as she intensified his agony to the point of making it so unbearable that he hoped it would kill him yet pained experience told him it wouldn’t.

‘ Phoenix! Return to me. I am under attack. Return! Now!’ Saruman’s order sounded as a mental scream through both Phoenix and Boromir’s minds.

“What now?” Phoenix mumbled irritated and released her hold on Boromir who breathed in deeply and pained.

‘ Phoenix!’

“Yeah, okay. Coming,” she waved irritated with her hand as if to rid herself of his mental voice and then knelt beside Boromir. She grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to look up at her. “I can’t travel fast with you so you stay. Run if you like; I can always find you. This isn’t over,” Phoenix warned and with that she stood and took flight, leaving his line of vision.

Boromir looked after her for a little while to make sure she was gone. Then he looked toward Faramir. He seemed to show signs of returning to consciousness. He tried to reach him but was still too weak to stand and so just lay still for a while, trying to get his breathing and heartbeat under control. To his relief he couldn’t feel any broken bones or severe injuries. He tried to get his mind off his pain and so forced himself to think about the future; what to do next. He figured he had heard Saruman’s order because of his connection to the Ring and he was glad he had. If Saruman was somehow under attack maybe all wasn’t lost. He recalled that Phoenix had said Aragorn was under attack at Helm’s Deep. If he could get there he could be of use. Though he would prefer to stay close to his brother he was confident that Faramir could handle things in Gondor and lead his beloved homeland with strength and courage.

Suddenly Faramir was beside him and he gently gathered him in his arms and sat with him, letting Boromir’s head rest in his lap.

“Save your strength. You will be alright,” Faramir calmed and Boromir nodded; that wasn’t his concern.

“Brother…Gondor is yours,” his voice was hoarse from screaming but still audible and strong. “Until Aragorn can reclaim what is rightfully his you are the best warrior to defend and lead our great nation.”

Faramir smiled warmly, his eyes wet at hearing those words of faith spoken to him.

“Thank you, my brother,” he couldn’t say how much it meant to him to hear his brother say those words. Growing up he had always been the victim of his father’s displeasure; only his brother had ever stood up for him.

Boromir’s right hand held on to Faramir’s left arm as he spoke again, his eyes warm and honest.

“You are a far better man than father or I could ever hope to be. Never doubt that or my love for you, brother.”

Faramir smiled and had to wait a little until he could speak from the lump in his throat.

“I will never doubt you. You will live forever in my heart, thoughts and mind.” Though he hadn’t meant it to be it was a farewell to a big brother who had been his only protector and strength through a hard and lonely childhood.

“I can not imagine a safer or better place to be,” Boromir replied warmly, used to Faramir’s poetic language and knew it came from the heart; it was a part of who he was and a part he first now really understood to treasure.

The brothers sat in silence for a while, remembering the joyful childhood memories they had shared in days long since gone by; bittersweet smiles playing around their lips the way smiles do when people remember something lost that cannot be regained.

Then Boromir spoke again, his voice serious. “I will need a horse. I have to get to Helm’s Deep and assist Aragorn. Gondor will be safe in your hands.”

  
Faramir nodded, again feeling great joy at hearing his brother’s support and trust in him.

“You will have all you need.”

  
Boromir nodded his thanks and lay still for a moment or two, enjoying this moment, which would probably be the last he would ever share with his brother. Though it saddened him to part from his brother he was content. He would leave having done right by all; the chance he had been denied before. He had said his farewell; he had a chance to make amends. He could do right. Everything he had done wrong…he could set it right.

Boromir smiled softly. Now, only after his death…he saw in Aragorn and his brother the hope that the young King had without success looked for in him. Now he saw it. Now he saw what Aragorn had seen and he would fight to keep that hope alive. He would do whatever he could while he still had the chance to make up for his past mistakes…One way or another.


	24. Book 2: Chapter 12: Battle At Helm’s Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle at Helm’s Deep begins.

### Chapter 12: Battle At Helm’s Deep

Scott had always been fascinated by military history and had read a lot about medieval battles and strategies. He had never imagined he would find himself in the middle of such a battle though.

After Aragorn and Ororo’s return they had prepared as well as they could for the upcoming battle, everyone working with great speed, no one wanting to say out loud why. Everyone had a feeling of approaching doom and death. Though the Fellowship and King Théoden had agreed not to tell the common soldier of their fear that they couldn’t win, the warriors weren’t fools. They knew well their chances of survival were slim to say the least. Aragorn’s return as a leader and commander in the battle had brought many soldiers hope, but Scott knew as well as anyone that hope wouldn’t be enough to defeat an overwhelming enemy – they would need help.

As an answer to their prayers and to everyone’s, including Aragorn’s, surprise help had arrived; in the form of an Elven army of archers ready to help them beat back the enemy. The group was led by Haldir, the Elf they had met when in the Golden Wood. Though Scott had never seen the handsome but grim man show any emotions at all he could have sworn he saw the man respond warmly to Aragorn’s tight embrace as he welcomed him. Now a more realistic hope had risen within many of the soldiers. The odds were still incredible and against them but they had a chance now, however small it was.

Aragorn had asked Haldir about Arwen and Haldir had told him her father had asked her to leave with the other Elves. Aragorn had accepted this piece of news with a heavy heart but still with grace and also a sense of relief and joy because she would be safe no matter what happened. Scott though, had been a little perplexed as to what was going on. First Elrond formed the Fellowship, taking a big interest in saving Middle Earth and keeping it safe from the evil whispers of the Ring. Then he didn’t seem to care and just wanted to leave, and now he had agreed to send an army to help them? Well, he guessed thousands of years of life could make even Elves indecisive.

They had had to reorder their strategies with the added force of the Elves. Aragorn, Scott and King Théoden were the chief planners for the battle. They positioned the Elven archers at strategic places and began to talk about contingency plans. If the gates were to be breached Legolas and Aragorn were to defend it, taking some of the warriors with them. The archers shouldn’t move but stay atop the walls, some of them given note that if called upon they should fire at Orcs who had breached the gate and were now in the yard; everyone else should stay focused on the Orcs still outside the walls. Aragorn seemed to be the one most comfortable with the Elves and also the one the Elves seemed to respect and listen to so they agreed that he’d be in command of the Elves with Haldir. He would be protecting the front side of the castle, directly facing the enemy. Legolas and Gimli would stand with the Elves but were not given any direct orders other than to follow Aragorn and stay alert. Though human by birth and destined to become a human King Scott saw how well Aragorn fitted in with the Elves and realised that in spirit and mind the young King was more Elf than human; making it seem very appropriate that to defend his human people he would be an Elfish commander. Scott would have preferred it if Legolas, being one of their best shots, stayed put on the walls but he knew such an order would be pointless. If Aragorn was in danger fighting back Orcs who had breached the gates Legolas would come to his bond brother’s defence no matter what.

Scott got a portion of the Rohan army to command on the castle’s left side while King Théoden stood on the right. He had wanted Ororo to get a key position as well but as with Eowyn King Théoden was firm; no women in key positions. Having no time to argue the finer points of equal rights and tolerance with so little time to spare Ororo had asked Scott not to push the matter. Instead Scott had positioned Ororo with Aragorn in the middle and Rogue with King Théoden at the right. That way they had three key players with long distance powers who could defend their position from afar. Scott requested that Ororo, Rogue and he first fired at least twenty times at the approaching Orcs before anyone else began to try and hit someone with arrows, as their supplies were limited. Between them with Ororo’s lighting, Rogue’s newly gained magical powers and his eye beams they should be able to take down quite a lot of Orcs before the enemy army were even within range of any arrow. Logan had insisted he stayed with Rogue, which Scott had also expected though he would have liked to have him stationed at a strategically better place as Logan had no long-range powers and would have to function as an archer for the first part of the battle. Logan was a good archer but as a close hand-to-hand fighter he was the best. Still, knowing when he was defeated, Scott had reluctantly given him to King Théoden, knowing quite well Logan wouldn’t obey the King anyway if he didn’t agree on his order and thus he felt better knowing Logan would be safe and that he would take care of Rogue, as always.

Eowyn had been harder for him to position. Legolas had great skill and speed, Rogue and Ororo had their long distance powers, Logan had his amazing healing abilities, Gimli had his size which would often protect him, Aragorn had his skills and strength but Eowyn would need to get close to her opponents; real close. She was inexperienced in battle and too valuable to lose and he had to admit he wasn’t just thinking of Middle Earth in general but him personally as well. She wanted to fight but her uncle was dead set against it and Aragorn didn’t look thrilled at the idea either. Scott had then made a deal with her. She would stay with him and help defend the walls as an archer but when the Orcs got too close and began to breach the walls she would withdraw to the caves and stand ready to defend the women and children against incoming Orcs with a small handful of warriors under her, all he could spare, if necessary - which he feared it would be. She had agreed to this, happy to finally get the chance to prove her warrior skills.

Everyone had taken their positions and Ororo had called for night to better hide their warriors, ready to let it rain when the Orcs appeared. She and Scott had agreed that maybe if the earth around the castle was slippery and wet it would slow the Orcs down for a little while, hopefully making them slip and fall and making it harder for them to get ladders up. Then the hard part had come; waiting. He had tried to keep his mind blank but hadn’t really succeeded. His guilt of killing had resurfaced. Fear of dying had showed its head. Insecurity in his own abilities and command had also had to be fought down. He thought of Jean and wished he could have held her and told her he loved her. He worried about the dreams of Phoenix that had plagued him and which threatened to drown out the happy memories he tried to call forth of time spent with Jean. To see the others saying their good wishes and embraces that could be the last hadn’t helped his mood. Legolas had embraced Ororo warmly before the battle, asking her to be careful and calling her that Elfish name he seemed to do a lot lately…what was it? Nîn meleth. That was it. Scott had promised himself to ask one of the Elves or Aragorn about its meaning at some point. Ororo hadn’t seemed distant as she had earlier but had embraced him warmly and kissed him, requesting he be careful as well; fear of losing him in her eyes. She had seemed to want to say more to him but hadn’t done so. Instead she had pulled back as if feeling guilty for touching him and they had parted to go to their positions. Logan and Rogue hadn’t had to say or do anything; they would fight together. Still Logan had embraced Rogue warmly and told her he loved her and would protect her. She had smiled and reminded him that with her new powers she might just have to protect him, a warm and teasing gleam in her eyes. Aragorn had looked as sad as Scott felt that they didn’t have anyone close to them to wish a good battle. Sure; they had both embraced and wished well to all their friends but that special someone…Suddenly he had found Eowyn beside him. She had looked nervous and he had thought it because of the battle. He was to ask her about it when she had given him a quick kiss on the cheek and wished him well, blushing deeply. He had smiled at her and wished her the same, vowing he would protect her in the coming battle and keep her safe. She had smiled fondly and then returned to her position close to him, a small smile still playing around her lips, making the wait a little easier for her to bear. His heart had been torn between guilt and happiness at her gesture and his own warm reaction to it.

Then suddenly there was no more time for thoughts, doubts, fears or any other feelings. Orcs had gathered before them, looking as vicious and evil as ever. There seemed to be endlessly many of them and Scott suddenly doubted they would have much chance even with the Elven archers. The beginning of the battle had gone well as he had thought it would. Rogue, Ororo and he had fired at the enemy, taking out large portions of Orcs at a time. Scott was still more than a little amazed by the white light Rogue could get to come out of her fingertips, making it destroy any Orc it reached. Still, new Orcs kept coming and by sheer force of numbers the Orcs got closer and closer, only slowed down but not defeated by the long distance attack. Aragorn had ordered the archers to fire as the Orcs were within range and King Théoden and Scott had done likewise. Rogue, Ororo and he had still used their powers whenever possible. Scott hadn’t doubted they could pretty much follow their strategy while the walls stayed intact and he had been proved right. It was when the Orcs started knocking on the gate, ladders reaching for them at the walls, that trouble started.

The battle became so large and wild it was impossible to control. Eowyn took her small portion of warriors to the caves as Ororo flew up, throwing lighting blots at the Orcs at the gate while trying to dodge arrows. Ororo had made it rain as soon as she had been able to spot the Orcs and it added to the uncontrollable feeling he got about the battle. It was hard to hear his own commands through the noise and rain also made it hard for him to see at times; his glasses kept getting wet and hard to see through. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Legolas still stood firing arrows from the wall, shooting down Orcs who tried to climb up ladders. Ororo had taken Gimli and Aragorn to the gate to help protect it though he was sure they knew as he did it was only a matter of time before it gave in. He saw that Logan and Rogue also had their hands full. With the Orcs so close and him not bad but not the best with a bow Logan was happy to be able to use his claws to destroy the wooden ladders so the Orcs fell down. The few who just about managed to get a leg over the wall he killed with great pleasure. On Scott’s own side things were hectic as well. He shot with his powers at Orcs trying to climb up ladders but they just kept coming.

 _Worse than cockroaches_ , he thought irritated at the Orcs. Suddenly a loud “Look out!” shook through the castle and Scott turned briefly at the sound, to his dismay seeing the gate had been broken in. It would only be a matter of time now before they had lost this battle. Scott got a determined look on his face. Well, they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“You know your orders! Stay focused!” Scott yelled at his men, seeing the few he had ordered to leave to defend the gate run toward the enemy there while the other warriors dutifully though hesitantly had to turn their back at this new enemy to fight against the Orcs who still tried to crawl over the walls.

“Come on, Aragorn. Don’t let me down here,” Scott silently prayed as he focused on keeping his side of the wall clean of Orcs. He had to have faith that Aragorn could protect his back. He saw Legolas leave his position to help Aragorn and swore silently as some of the Elves went with him. They needed those archers at the walls to stop those not already inside from coming in! Of course it wouldn’t help much if the Orcs inside the walls killed them all from behind. God damn it! They needed more men! They needed a miracle!

Scott saw Rogue throw a large ball of white light at her side of the wall, clearing it for a few minutes. To his worry he saw her fall down as soon as the energy had left her. Logan went to check on her and his enhanced eyesight noticed Scott’s worried and distracted look and gave him an OK sign. Scott sighed relieved and went back to the battle. They had discussed the possibility of Rogue passing out after such intensive use of her powers and had also planned what to do. Logan would take her to the caves and leave her to Eowyn’s protection and then Logan would walk from the caves back toward the battle, killing all who tried to reach the caves on his way. Scott was sad to lose both Logan and Rogue from their positions as Logan left to get Rogue to the caves but he knew Rogue had to be taken to safety now that she had passed out and was totally defenceless.

The battle went on and despite their heavy resistance the Orcs didn’t seem to draw back. Aragorn had great trouble at the gate, trying to protect Scott, Haldir, Ororo and King Théoden’s backs. More Orcs got so far as to reach Logan and he had more than his hands full defending the entrance to the caves and an Orc or two even managed to get past Logan to their last defence; Eowyn and the few men with her. Still, so far they managed to stop any Orcs from reaching the caves and the defenceless people inside.

The attack at Scott’s side didn’t lessen and with both Aragorn and Legolas gone from the middle position that part had now become weak and Scott tried to command both sides with Haldir and Ororo’s help; an impossible task and Orcs kept hammering into them. Just when everything seemed lost a large, bright, white light appeared at the horizon.

“Rogue?” Scott mumbled confused. She couldn’t be out there; she was in the caves. The light came closer and Scott was able to make it out. It was….

“Gandalf!” Scott said in relief. And he wasn’t alone. He had the outcast prince Eomer and his riders with him.

Of course. The wizard had said he would get help, had said he would be back. The cavalry arriving at the last minute. Now under attack from two fronts the Orcs were sorely pressed. Seeing help had arrived the battle worn and tired army inside the walls got new strength and hope which gave the fight a new edge, a new desperation as now the warriors could see hope once more; they wouldn’t die here!

Scott noticed that quite a lot of the Elven and Rohan soldiers had gone outside the walls to help Gandalf fight the enemy. Scott would have preferred they stayed atop the walls; a safer position though not quite as satisfactory as being in the mist of battle and maybe not as helpful to the old wizard. Worried that the soldiers were running wild outside the walls with no leader, attacking in anger and urgency he was relieved when he saw Haldir had gone outside the walls; as ever looking every bit the stone warrior, taking charge of the attack. He also saw that Aragorn had managed to get by some of the Orcs, through the broken gate and was also outside while Legolas and Gimli stayed inside the walls to keep fighting the incoming Orcs in the yard. Scott could feel and see the pressure lessen at the walls from the wizard’s attack. Taking the fight to the Orcs, going on offence instead of defence would prove useful now to help shorten the battle.

The battle continued to race on, Scott trying to get a position on his friends whenever possible. Suddenly he spotted Haldir below him. He had been cut off from his warriors and was surrounded by Orcs. Scott could see several Elves lying among the dead on the ground and somehow despite the mess of bodies and dying around him this sight, seeing the supposedly immortals dead, shook him so much he had to force himself to focus on the task at hand. He could always break down later; for now he had to fight and win. Scott’s first instinct was to run to Haldir’s defence but he would never make it. Aragorn was down there but too far away from Haldir, caught up in his own battle. Scott could not aim his beams precisely enough without his visor to get Haldir’s closest opponents; only those who were a certain distance from him. So he did the only thing he could do; ordered some of his archers to aim at the Orcs surrounding the commander but he knew Haldir would be lost to them as there were too many Orcs for the archers to get them all.

Suddenly a new figure entered the battlefield. Scott hadn’t noticed him before. He was dressed plainly, in no armour and the rain made it hard to make him out, especially as he wore a long hooded cape. No light or anything else accompanied him or marked him as special. To Scott’s surprise he came from the opposite side than where Gandalf had appeared from, telling he most likely wasn’t one of the Rohan riders Gandalf had had with him. He rode alone into the Orcs from behind, fighting to get through to the castle. It was not only a brave move; it was stupid and suicidal. Scott saw the man get a sword into him, caught inside his stomach and he fell from his horse. Scott thought that was it; another sad loss to add to the long list of warriors they had lost that day. Then, to what seemed like both of theirs surprise the man stood up again and pulled the sword free. For a moment the rider stood still and simply looked strangely at the sword that should have killed him. Then he went to his horse and got up on it again, picking up his own sword and fought onward toward the castle. Another wizard, Scott figured, taken aback by the gesture. Though immortal he hadn’t known Gandalf could do that. The man chose that moment to glance up at the walls and Scott could see his face.

“Boromir!”

It was impossible, yet he could have sworn…it looked just like him. Incoming Orcs demanded his attention but whenever he could he followed the man through the battlefield. He saw him get hit many more times as he fought a path through the Orcs until he reached Haldir, saving the Elf by using his body as his shield after having been ‘dead’ at least twenty times already. Haldir must have seen the uncanny resemblance to Boromir as well and having been told earlier by the remainder of the Fellowship that he was dead, he stood still for a moment in shock. Then the battle demanded their full attention again and any questions would have to wait.

Finally, after a long and involved battle the Orcs drew back and everyone could breathe easily again, too tired to make much of a victory cry. The large amount of dead or wounded also put a damper on their joy. Everyone got busy attending wounded and trying to find friends to make sure everyone were all right. Scott could see Logan, Gimli, Legolas, Eomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Gandalf, the King of Rohan and most of his officers from his position on the wall, as they began to gather inside the walls. He walked down toward Logan and in the distance back in the caves he saw Rogue, Ororo and Eowyn prepare to help the wounded and first then, sure his friends were all right, could he breathe easily. Though tired and with smaller wounds they were all right. Scott felt like sleeping for days, a strange numbness blissfully numbing all feelings of guilt and grief and for a brief moment he envied Logan his warrior mind which meant he didn’t suffer from guilt; Logan had always killed for those he loved or in self defence and didn’t have Ororo or Scott’s trouble with taking a life.

Scott ran a tired hand through his wet hair and over his sweaty brow but fought back his weariness, knowing they all felt tired but sleep would have to wait. They needed to help the wounded, find out what they had lost in the battle. The warrior who had saved Haldir rode through the broken gate and looked up at him and Scott couldn’t hide his shock. The man’s similarity to Boromir wasn’t just amazing; it was so close it was disturbing. Seeing the wounded were in good hands for now Scott decided he first and foremost needed to get some answers. He had felt this surge of hope since first seeing the warrior and needed to either kill it now before it grew or know for certain. Boromir had died; he had seen it himself. Yet so had Gandalf. Could it be? Could he be back? Speaking of Gandalf…he still owned them an explanation regarding Rogue’s new powers. Scott intended to finally get some answers from both men. Determined he walked toward them and Logan fell in beside him, over the years having become so attuned to Scott that he knew what he wanted to do and his face clearly said that he was as eager as Scott was to know what was going on.


	25. Book 2: Chapter 13: Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo makes a surprising discovery

### Chapter 13: Revelations

Scott hadn’t gotten around to speaking with either Gandalf or the mysterious warrior who had saved Haldir as quickly as he had hoped to do. Medieval battles in movies were much easier to deal with than in reality, as Scott and Logan had soon found out. It would take a lot of time to gather the wounded, find the dead and bury them, count up supplies and countless other things.

Scott and Logan had their first chance to try and find one of the two men they wanted to talk to after having helped with some very crude surgery, which looked more likely to kill the patient than save him. Shaken up by the amount of blood and the cries of the wounded, Scott and Logan once again set out to find Gandalf and talk to him about Rogue’s new powers. They eventually did and it was with relief they found that, though the wizard had touched Rogue on purpose, it had been for this occasion only; to help them win the day and nothing else. The wizard said he was sure that, as with all her stolen powers this too would fade; in a matter of days she would again only have her natural mutation left. Though Scott had been sad to know they would lose the great asset Rogue’s added powers had been, he was as relieved and happy as Logan to know that she was all right and would continue to be so. Still Scott would continue to keep an eye on Rogue because, despite the wizard’s comforting words, Gandalf later admitted that he had never done anything like what he had done to Rogue before and neither had she. So, though it would be logical to assume she would lose all her powers and that she would have no serious side effects of the experience, the fact was that they didn’t know for sure.

Leaving Gandalf to discuss what to do next with Aragorn and other high-ranking personnel Scott and Logan went to search for the stranger and this time they managed to find him. He almost seemed as if he was hiding. He wore a long, common, green/brown cape with a hood over his head and was attending to some wounded, as far away from any high-ranking personnel as he could be. He turned around as he heard them approach, surprise and joy on his face as he saw whom it was.

“Fuck!” Logan got out, shocked. Scott had said the man reminded him of Boromir but this man didn’t just look like him; it was him!

“I am glad to see you too,” Boromir smiled at him, a gleam in his green eyes, not knowing the curse word he nevertheless knew from Logan’s tone and having spent so much time with him that it was a curse.

It struck Scott that if this was Boromir then he looked more at ease, more relaxed than Scott had ever seen him before. He didn’t seem weighted down by millions of burdens nor did he have the agonised look in his eyes he had always seemed to have before. Though Scott could still see pain in every line of his face he still looked so much more...alive.

“Boromir?” Scott probed and Boromir turned to him and nodded.

“It is I.”

Before another word could be spoken Scott gave the man a warm embrace, which he happily repaid in kind before they drew apart. Scott couldn’t believe this miracle and just kept looking at his friend, smiling widely.

“Doesn’t anybody around here stay dead?” Logan complained teasingly before he gave Boromir’s hand a warm shake and slapped his shoulder in greeting.

“This is…this is amazing,” Scott got out as Boromir drew back and smiled warmly at his friends.

“I am happy to see you both alive and well.” They could hear the great relief in his voice.

“We could say the same but how in the world is this possible? You’re like Gandalf or what?” Logan wanted to know, curiously looking Boromir over. Boromir pulled back his hood so he could see him better. Logan found no signs that he had changed appearance like Gandalf had though his keen eyesight did notice that Boromir’s face lacked the small scars on his lip and above one of his eyes that he had had before as reminders of past battles.

“I am not like Gandalf and would never claim to be,” Boromir said seriously, casting a quick glance at the wizard’s back from where he stood in the yard with the Rohan King, his advisors, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Eomer. Boromir had been greatly relieved to find all his friends well and safe, especially Aragorn and Eomer, though he hadn’t gathered enough courage to face them yet. He felt he had a lot to make up for and feared their judgement. Furthermore, he was deeply concerned that he hadn’t seen Merry or Pippin anywhere.

“So?” Scott pressed, wanting to know how it was possible he too had returned to them.

“Before another word is spoken I need to know this; did the Little Ones survive?” his worry and concern were clear in his voice and in every line of his face. He silently prayed that they were all right. If they were not he would spend the rest of whatever time he had left trying to avenge them.

“They are safe. They aren’t even in any fighting,” Scott calmed him down. If he had had any doubts about whether or not this man was truly Boromir he had none now. Just seeing the concern and love in Boromir’s eyes when he mentioned the Hobbits and the relief that the good news brought him…no one could fake that.

“Probably the safest of us all,” Logan added from what Gandalf had told them about the two Hobbits.  
  


”Good. Good,” Boromir nodded and smiled relieved at hearing this. They were safe! That was all that mattered.

“About how you returned?” Scott wanted to know. He had this strange feeling it would be hard to hear, that something about Boromir’s return was wrong but he refused to listen to that voice. He was back; that was the important thing.

“I am not quite sure how I returned,” Boromir admitted thoughtfully. “I remember waking up in Saruman’s stronghold. There was a woman there. She claimed she had made this body for me,” he motioned to his body with his hands, answering Scott’s next question about how his body looked so well as compared to the last time Scott had seen it. It had floated down the river wearing all the scars and wounds that the body of a fallen warrior always has.

“Wait a minute,” Logan broke in. “Saruman brought you back?! But I thought that guy was bad news?”

  
“He is,” Boromir’s voice was grim, his voice filled with self-hatred as he went on. “The woman told me the Ring had brought me back; that I am now connected to it. I think it is because of the dishonourable act I committed before my…death.”

Unable to either disprove or prove Boromir’s suggestion Scott settled for asking something else. “I saw you get fatally hit several times before you rescued Haldir. Are you immortal now?” Scott remembered his surprise when he had seen Boromir simply ride on when he should have died. On the other hand, as Boromir himself had just reminded him, he should have been dead long before now as it was.

“My new life is connected to the Ring. From what I can gather only the destruction of the Ring can kill me; nothing else will.” Granted he hadn’t been totally sure his theory was right but he had just proved it was; many times over. It was strange to ride into battle, knowing he couldn’t die nor, apparently, be permanently injured as all his wounds healed as fast as Logan’s did. It took the power out of a battle.

“What did Saruman want?” Scott had a bad feeling about all this. If Boromir would die a final death by the destruction of the Ring…wouldn’t it make sense he would be working for Saruman now?

“The woman told me he wanted me to get the Ring. It was now with my brother near Minas Tirith,” Boromir explained.

“With your brother?!” Logan asked surprised, remembering that Boromir had fleetingly mentioned a younger brother that he loved deeply who he had left in Minas Tirith, Gondor’s capital city. “But weren’t Sam and Frodo supposed to be going to Mordor?”

“They were and now are.” Logan and Scott looked at Boromir, waiting for him to explain further. “I did not take the Ring. I talked with my brother and he let the Little Ones go. They are heading towards Mt. Doom to destroy the Ring as we speak.”

Scott couldn’t keep a relieved sigh from leaving his lips. Despite what he knew would be a death sentence Boromir had still done the right thing. There was no doubt in Scott’s mind that Boromir had redeemed himself for whatever wrong he had committed in the past, including the grab for the Ring Aragorn had told them he had taken, many times over and had restored himself to his rightful position as an honour bound warrior.

“I’m guessing your act of defiance didn’t go over well,” Logan guessed insightfully.

Boromir frowned. “You could say that.”

  
”What happened?” Scott probed.

Boromir laughed a short, bitter, and humourless laugh. “The woman I mentioned…she was about to give me another demonstration of her power. Luckily Saruman called her back. Apparently his stronghold is under attack.” A note of satisfaction was in his voice as he mentioned the last part.

“Finally someone is working with us instead of against us,” Logan mumbled. Whoever had attacked Saruman…it sure was nice to know they weren’t all alone in this.

“The woman…who was she?” Somehow that was a hard question to ask. Scott wasn’t sure why but he hung on Boromir’s lips for the answer.

“I had never seen her before and I never wish to again. She is one of the most powerful beings I have ever encountered,” Boromir tried hard to keep a shiver from going through him as he fought to keep bad memories of dreadful torture from his mind.

  
“Did she leave a name?” Logan asked. _Strange that a woman should hold such power_ , he thought. This world seemed pretty dead set against women in authority in general.

“I will never forget it. She wore the symbol of a firebird and called herself...”

  
“Phoenix,” Scott whispered the name, his voice filled with dread as he completed Boromir’s sentence for him. His nightmares, his worst nightmare…was coming true. His beloved Jean…turned evil and without Xavier to help him reach her…would he live out his nightmare? Was she here to kill him?

“Yes. That was what she called herself. Do you know her?” Boromir asked surprised.

“Oh, yeah. We know her alright,” Logan said grimly. Phoenix shouldn’t be in this world at all but when Logan considered it he figured she had most likely arrived in Middle Earth at the same time they had. Come to think of it everyone had seemed surprised at their appearance in Rivendell, betraying that they hadn’t been the ones to call for them. What if Sauron had called for Phoenix and they had come along either by accident or by the help of some good force trying to even the score? Sauron and Phoenix together and with full knowledge of their powers and both sharing the same goal…that wasn’t a very pleasant thought. He had thought or maybe rather hoped that they had put the ghost of Phoenix to rest long ago. Jean’s powers had been locked down to a minimum by Xavier to contain them…to keep them under control and prevent Phoenix from ever rising from the ashes. But like her namesake she had risen from the dead.

“She is from your world?” Boromir guessed, confused by the dark look on Logan’s face and the shocked and devastated look on Scott’s but he didn’t want to pry.

“Yes,” Scott’s answer was short and seemed to come from far away as if he was in deep thought.

Logan became worried; clearly remembering the emotional hell Scott had been through the last time his beloved Jean had turned into Phoenix.

“Scott…Scott!” Logan got more than a little concerned when Scott didn’t reply at first and snapped his fingers in front of Scott’s face to get his attention.

Scott focused on Logan, forcing his thoughts away from Phoenix and Jean, away from painful memories and dark fears.

“We need to tell Ororo and Rogue,” Scott said seriously.

Logan knew what he meant; they needed to warn them. “Yeah.”

  
”Boromir, we need to talk with Rogue and Ororo. I think you should go find Aragorn and Eomer. They’ll both be happy to see you again.” Though concern and pain were in Scott’s eyes and voice there was no mistaking the genuine warmth and happiness he felt over seeing Boromir back.

“I wanted so badly to speak with them but I admit I feared their scorn. I will speak to them now,” Boromir promised, not wanting to push more information out of his new friends.

“It’s good to have you back,” Scott said warmly and gave Boromir a heartfelt shake with his hand around the other man’s wrist. Logan did likewise, the warmth and power of his grip saying the same that Scott had expressed in words. Then the two men walked away, back toward the caves and the large hall which served as the temporary hospital for all the wounded. Boromir looked after them before he returned his attention to the wounded he had been tending. Having finished with them he slowly began to walk toward Aragorn and the others.

Some time later Boromir was embarrassed over his earlier fear as everyone greeted him back warmly once he had explained things. Aragorn had embraced him so tightly Boromir had feared he should break and he had seen tears of joy in the young King’s eyes. Also Eomer had greeted him warmly, giving him a large brotherly embrace. He had been most hesitant toward Gandalf, knowing of the wizard’s love for Frodo but once again Gandalf proved to live up to his reputation as wise. He put the past to rest and welcomed Boromir back without any hesitation and with much more warmth than he had showed him when he had originally joined the Fellowship. Soon they made Boromir feel wanted and cared for, making him feel all his pain and sacrifices for his friends had been more than worth it.

* * *

Ororo couldn’t believe it had come to this. She had thought she had found Heaven, finally found happiness. Now…now she felt as if she was dying. The only thing preventing her from breaking down was the fact that she kept reminding herself that she had done the right thing; she had saved Legolas. Though it was a very cold comfort that she doubted would keep her up for long.

Legolas had come to her some time after the battle. She had kept an eye out for him during the fighting to try and make sure he was all right. Despite her faith in his fighting abilities she had still been happy to see him uninjured when she had seen him again after the fighting was over. She had been helping with the wounded, blood everywhere, screams echoing in the stone halls. Though she had made it stop raining and had tried to call off the dark clouds to help them more easily find the wounded among all the dead, her mood had always been reflected in the weather and right now it was very hard to keep dark clouds from reforming. She had forced herself to be distant with him, had forced herself not to look him in the eyes as she had spoken those dreadful words.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  
Just saying them had felt like stabbing herself in the heart with a very large kitchen knife. She could almost feel his confusion and anguish. He wasn’t sure what she meant so she had been forced to clarify, “It is over between us.”

  
He had taken it like she knew he would, with cold grace.

“Look at me. I deserve that much at least.”

  
His words had been like a slap to the face and she had forced herself to look at him, instantly regretting it when she saw the deep agony in his blue eyes. She didn’t notice when tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Be well, nîn meleth,” his voice was filled with bittersweet love and hurt. Then he took her right hand to his lips and gently kissed it. The gesture almost broke her.

“Legolas, please assist me,” Aragorn stood a little away from them but when Ororo looked at him she knew that he knew what was happening. He nodded at her as if he shared her pain and she felt a short surge of useless anger toward him for he had been the one to make her do this. Then only coldness and loss were left. Aragorn had been right in helping his friend; this had to be done no matter how much it hurt her.

 _Please take good care of him_ , she silently asked of Aragorn and the young King nodded at her as if he had heard her silent plea.

When Legolas reached him Aragorn touched his arm and almost guided him out of the room, offering this light physical contact as if lending the elf the strength he would need to go on. Legolas smiled a little at his bond brother though pain was carved into every line of his face and in his eyes, making Aragorn worried. He feverishly hoped Ororo hadn’t pulled back too late, that Legolas hadn’t given his love to her. Because if he had, Aragorn could have just signed his friend’s death warrant instead of helping him.

*Thank you, Estel,* Legolas had whispered softly as he had been guided away from Ororo and the love he had lain at her feet. Legolas wasn’t sure what he thanked for; that Aragorn was there, that he seemed to understand…just something.

Aragorn nodded, not sure what else to do. This had to work; it couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t lose Legolas. Not now. Not like this. It had to work!

That had been almost six hours ago. Scott and Logan had come by, first to let her know that they had talked with Gandalf about Rogue and next to tell her Phoenix was back. None of that information seemed to register with her. All she could think of was Legolas and all she had lost. Boromir’s miraculous return had brought a smile to her lips and a warm gleam to her eyes for a few seconds but that was all. Scott, Logan, Rogue and even Boromir had, with concern, noticed her pained look and had commented on it. But she couldn’t talk about it; couldn’t explain. She simply hurt too much. She helped the wounded, her motions mechanical with no emotions in them. She didn’t think about the future or about the future battles. Her future looked empty and dead without Legolas in it.

Suddenly when she looked out at the sky she saw it was grey and it was raining heavily. She had let her control slip and her mood had been reflected in the weather. Pulling herself together she stopped the rain and banished the grey clouds. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calmer. She wiped the last traces of her tears away. If she were to keep Legolas safe, he could never know how much she loved him, how much this hurt her.

Suddenly an unusual feeling came to her; not unpleasant but…nothing like anything she had ever felt before. Thinking about it she had felt this…sensation for some weeks now. She had ignored it before, had been too caught up in one thing or another. It was now, when she had forced herself to relax, that she began to realize that something had changed. She tried to stay calm and find the source of the change. It was to be found within her, she could feel it. She was in tune with nature; she should be able to find out if something was wrong with her own body. She focused, stayed calm, reached out…further, further… There. It was…It couldn’t be! She tried again but with the same result. It couldn’t be! But it was. She was…She was….

“I’m pregnant!”

* * *

Unaware of Ororo’s realisation, the army continued to prepare for the next battle. The Rohan King, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Scott and Logan discussed what to do next and how to proceed now. They had won a battle but the war was just about to begin.

For Ororo the battle hadn’t even begun and she felt she had already lost the war. Yet in the middle of her darkness she felt a glimmer of hope…a hope she carried within herself. If she could get by, fight back the dark clouds…maybe there was still hope. If she could just hold on to that hope in the mist of her sorrow…could see the light, however faint….

There was still hope. There had to be.


	26. Book 3: The Return: Chapter 1: The Fate Of Isengard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Isengard

### Chapter 1: The Fate Of Isengard

The joy at Boromir’s return became dimmed when it became clear how much their victory at Helm’s Deep had cost them. The rising sun had revealed thousands of dead, men and Elves alike. Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain Haldir and his Elves had to be in when they buried their dead, knowing that their friends shouldn’t have died…ever. Knowing they truly could have lived forever and not just a few more years.

It had taken them a week to move out from Helm’s Deep. They had had to bury all the dead, prepare those who wished to take the body of a beloved one with them back home for burial and get all the wounded gathered. It didn’t take an expert to see that many of the wounded wouldn’t survive the hard trip back to Edoras, the capital of Rohan. They had decided to divide the forces now, one part taking the civilians and the wounded back to the capital while another force went to Isengard to see what had happened for Phoenix to be summoned there. ‘They’ in this sense was everyone in a position of power or as Logan has called it, the Powers That Be or PTB. It was King Theoden, Haldir, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Eomer and the X-men who made up this group. However, much to Eowyn and the female X-men’s frustration, King Théoden still wouldn’t give them the right to speak in council; earning him many sharp comments from a pissed off Rogue while Ororo had remained uncharacteristically quiet as if her mind was far away. King Theoden had agreed to lead his people back to the capital and had wanted Eowyn and preferably the other women as well to follow him because it would be safer than going with the other group that would lead an army of uninjured soldiers, men and elves alike, toward Isengard as they didn’t know what they would find there. Unsurprisingly, none of the women had taken him up on his offer and all had joined the group going to Isengard. They would then all meet back in Edoras to figure out what to do, depending on what they found at Isengard.

The trip to Isengard hadn’t been long but it had been silent and filled with thoughts; a veil of foreshadowing seemed to hang over them all. Boromir had been worried for his Little Ones despite Scott and Logan’s reassurances and had had a hard time coming to terms with going back to Isengard, the place where he had been so brutally tortured. Ororo had been very silent the entire journey and Scott had begun to worry about her. She didn’t want to eat but something seemed to force her to try. She moved with more caution than she usually did and would often move her hand to her stomach as if to protect it whenever she heard a sudden noise. Something was going on with her, Scott was sure of it and had also voiced his concerns to Logan. He knew Legolas and she had broken up, which saddened him, and he guessed that could account for her distress but the other signs she was displaying hadn’t been consistent with the distress of losing a lover. Logan, however, hadn’t been much help to him. He had been worried about her too but had enough worrying to do with Rogue who was sad that she would soon lose her powers. She wanted to keep them and her wish to do so had both men worried, their thoughts going to Boromir and his play at the Ring that he had explained to them in more detail after his resurrection. He too had had the best of intentions, wanting to save his people, but the Ring was evil, pure evil. What would happen if Rogue got near the Ring now, having tasted the sweetness of power? Well, as Logan said they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. For now Scott was satisfied that they were all safe. Ororo had even managed to get under Boromir’s skin a little, she needing the distraction to keep her mind of her own misery and him needing the support from someone who wouldn’t make him feel weak. Scott had seen Ororo comfort Boromir one night on their way to Isengard and had heard a few of the things he had told her. Details of his torture…terrible torture. A survivor’s account of brutality, agony, pain, death and humiliation, all inflicted upon him by a woman Scott couldn’t help but still love even if that love was now being tainted and contrasted with his own feelings of disgust and hate toward a tormentor who so brutally and calculated had worked hard on breaking a human spirit. The things that Phoenix had done to Boromir no one should have to be subjected to yet his friend had lived through that…at the hands of the woman Scott loved; at the hands of his wife.

In an attempt to try and not drive himself insane with worry, guilt, hate, love and a million other emotions Scott couldn’t even begin to explain he tried to focus on the others and their needs instead of his own inner turmoil. He would speak to Boromir to make sure he felt welcomed back, he would look in on Legolas who seemed very pale and silent and who drew concern and support even from Logan who had seen the Elf like this before, only worse, when they had thought Ororo and Aragorn lost. Through it all Legolas had remained a study of silent suffering, graceful as always he remained the ever vigilant watchman but he had become distant. Scott would consult with Aragorn on the Elf’s health and share worries and plans to try and keep him safe. He would keep an eye on Ororo, trying to get her to cheer up and eat more, he would speak with Logan who was going out of his mind with worry over Rogue and her anger and sadness over her losing more and more powers each day. He would try his best to calm Rogue down when she was screaming how unfair it was that she would lose her powers again now that she finally felt like she was contributing to the group’s safety and victory. He would try to organise things, talking strategy with Eomer and Gandalf. Still, at the end of the day not even sheer exhaustion could drive away his fears. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Phoenix, an evil entity wearing the skin of his beloved, hurting his friends and killing him. It was in those moments, only then, that he allowed himself to break down and Eowyn, always a calm pillar of strength to him, would embrace him and hold him close in her arms all through the night. She would never push, never asked why, never spoke of his need for her comfort in the daylight which he was immensely happy and grateful for. More than anything he was happy for her grace and dignity, which kept her from assuming anything and from pushing him to make promises he wouldn’t be able to keep or explain things he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling toward her. He knew he cared for Eowyn a lot but where that fitted in with his love for Jean he had no idea.

Scott hated feeling helpless and at the moment he had more questions than answers. Was Jean even alive inside Phoenix? Could she come back if she was? Would she kill him as he had dreamt so often? If they could get her back what then? As Phoenix she would have worked and killed for Sauron. Should Jean be brought to justice for deeds Phoenix had committed? He thought not but he knew well that the grief and revengefulness of relatives from people Phoenix had tortured or killed would mean they would most likely disagree with him. Besides he knew Jean’s heart; she had only been able to live with herself after her first turn into the evil Phoenix because Xavier had erased most of the evil deeds she had committed from her mind but for that to work this time as well they needed to return home. Could they do so? If he did survive this war, if Jean didn’t, if duty didn’t bind him anymore…Would he then feel safe to strengthen his bond with the beautiful blond princess? Questions he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer to given the unsure world they lived in.

There had been bright spots though. Gimli’s attempts to cheer up Legolas with grumpy humour, Gandalf’s sharing of wisdom with Aragorn and Boromir like a kind uncle or teacher to his brightest students. The otherwise distant Haldir who had shocked both Aragorn and Legolas by warming up to his rescuer and Boromir who had found he had a lot in common with the Elven commander. They shared a great love for their people, a true bond of duty and an urge to protect their lands and people. Other nice episodes had been Aragorn’s protectiveness towards Legolas and Boromir, determined not to lose either friend. Boromir was moved by the show of affection he was getting but though everyone had forgiven him for his pass at the Ring the Steward’s son had yet to forgive himself. Those nice episodes had made the trip more bearable despite the sad looks that passed between Ororo and Legolas. Not that either was unfriendly toward the other but it was more like they were slowly killing each other every time their hands by accident touched each other or their eyes met. So far no one had been able to get out of Ororo why she had broken up with Legolas but Scott had a feeling Aragorn knew because he claimed it was for the best when Scott had asked about it, something that had made Scott furious. He might not be able to be happy, his own love life might be in pieces but he would be damned if his best friend would suffer too. Sometime soon he would get Ororo to explain this mess to him because from what he had seen and from what Logan had told him he had picked up with his senses, like salty smells on both Ororo and Legolas after shed tears, he couldn’t understand why they had broken up when they seemed to care so deeply for each other.

They had been prepared for another battle when they had reached Isengard, tension rising high and nervousness all around after the bloody battle at Helm’s Deep but for once they had been pleasantly surprised. Isengard had been destroyed. Despite their searches they hadn’t found Phoenix’s body and Scott was both relieved and sad to hear that. He knew his happiness over her survival was a selfish feeling since Phoenix was a dangerous enemy who would destroy a world in a heartbeat without second thoughts. Yet, she was still Jean, his wife and lover and he couldn’t let her go, had never been able to.

They had found Saruman dead however, his body a bloody puddle. At the sight Boromir had thrown up, not from the grizzly image but from the memories of his own torture, death and revival at this place. Scott had been amazed that had been the man’s only breakdown considering all he had been through. Hell, back in his own reality there didn’t even exist enough therapists who could help him over what he had been put through. Not only did he have his past to fight but it wasn’t far from everyone’s minds that they might lose Boromir again if Phoenix had spoken the truth to him when she had claimed that the destruction of the Ring meant his own final death as well. Strangely enough, Boromir was the one who was most accepting of that fate, maybe because he had already died. Not just in the woods but at Phoenix’s hands as well during her torture.

The moment that would stand out in the X-men’s minds for the rest of their lives was when they saw an Ent for the first time. Gigantic living trees this manifestation of the magic of this world they were now in had blown their minds and they had been awestruck…after they had been assured the trees were friendly and after they had been convinced they weren’t dreaming, crazy or imagining things.

The most joyous moment had been when they had found Merry and Pippin. Boromir had smiled like a small sun, as had his Little Ones. He had knelt before them and they had run into his embrace. He had held them close as a father would his young sons, laughing in joy as tears rolled down his face. Scott didn’t need to be a telepath to know that the joy of this moment, as Boromir was rejoined with the two small Hobbits who he loved like the sons he would never have, that in that moment Boromir had felt that all his pain had been worth it to see them safe.

After having made sure there were no enemies nearby and hearing Merry and Pippin speak of the Ents who had helped them but who, sadly, weren’t willing to help more, they had moved back toward Edoras to decide on a battle plan that would end the war of the One Ring once and for all.

While the small army of men and Elves moved back toward Edoras to regroup Pippin and Merry never left Boromir’s side. The change in them all was profound. The love between man and Hobbits had only increased but Boromir was more open about his feelings, taking great care of his ‘children’, keeping an eye on them, keeping them safe and in general spoiling them rotten which Merry and Pippin enjoyed to the fullest. Despite this and the good news of the fall of Isengard, the group still had a lot of worries on their minds. Phoenix was still out there, up and coming bloody and possibly deadly battles lay ahead and the small group of commanders worried about Rogue, Ororo, Legolas and the possible loss of Boromir.

Scott tried his best to keep his worries at bay and tried to enjoy this moment. For now they were safe, moving back toward Edoras. He shook his thoughts off him as Eowyn silently moved up to him and he smiled warmly at her, feeling some of the tension leaving him at the sight of the courageous Princess who for some reason that was still a mystery to him had looked with kind eyes on a young red shaded stranger. As if she sensed his inner turmoil she smiled softly at him and stuck a comforting hand under his arm. Smiling even wider at her kind gesture he patted her fingers on his arm with his other hand, feeling better than he had for a long time. For now there was nothing else to do…for now they were all safe. He feared that would be something he wouldn’t be able to say for long.


	27. Book 3: Chapter 2: The Force That Drives You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoenix and later Sam thinks about their reasons for fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for this week's last big update. I hope someone enjoys it in these hard times.  
> If you liked it then I would love it if you left kudos and a comment. It would make my day so please do consider it; even just an emoji. Thank you. :)

### Chapter 2: The Force That Drives You

This was intolerable. She, Phoenix, who had once destroyed a whole planet…she had been beaten by an army of trees! The thought alone made her anger flare to an unprecedented high, making several Orcs who were near her fall dead from the telepathic echo of her rage.

For some reason her powers hadn’t worked against the trees, or Ents as they called themselves. It was like they were a part of nature itself, drawing strength from the earth and everything around them. Their minds were too alien for her to manipulate and her telepathic powers had seemed to bounce off on them as rain on a goose. She had tried to reach the minds of the two Hobbits she could sense to be with them but the Ents had blocked her powers by carrying the small beings, shielding them from her. She had, however, seen that these two Hobbits did not have the Ring.

When the Ents had reached Isengard Phoenix had known the battle had been lost. Despite her arrogance and her fury over being unable to hurt these magical forest beings, she wasn’t going to commit suicide by staying and fighting them till the bitter end. She had ignored Saruman’s threats, protests and finally pleas as he had known he was about to die. She had left him to his own devices; one less being to have to kill off when this war was over. Instead she had taken flight and had received Sauron’s command to join him in Mordor.

In Mordor she had helped the Orcs get ready for their attack on Gondor and Sauron had agreed that Saruman would have been disposed off sooner or later so save a ‘mild’ punishment in the form of a mind ripping agony in her skull that had lasted several hours Phoenix had escaped unharmed from Sauron’s fearsome rage.

Now that everything seemed under way she was musing over the whereabouts of the Ring. Sauron wasn’t a forgiving man or being or whatever the hell he was and she still hadn’t gotten the Ring for him. More importantly, if he didn’t get the Ring he wouldn’t help her back to her own time so she could rule there. She had some leads and ideas about how to get the Ring. Boromir was bound to the Ring with his life. He might have been brave once for his brother but she was sure he would fail in the end. Humans always did. They were weak; all of them. She had unfortunately found that her connection to him was dimmer now. She had been able to sense him, find him, through his darker emotions like guilt, anger and hate but lately a blinding light that could only be love had shielded Boromir from her telepathic searching; she could no longer pinpoint his whereabouts. He must have found someone he loved. Just the thought was laughable. Love! What a weak emotion! Jean had loved someone. She had loved Scott and Xavier and Ororo and…her lover and her friends. She had been weak as well. As Phoenix her powers were unmatched. She had the power; she had complete control! Scott was still a danger to her though. Last time her powers had grown, last time Jean had become Phoenix Xavier and Scott had managed to reach inside her, managed to find Jean and her weak emotions of love and compassion. Xavier wasn’t here this time but Scott was. He was a threat to her and her plans for power and domination. She would have to deal with him sooner or later but first she needed that blasted Ring for Sauron so she could get her promised reward. Why in the world had Sauron put so much power, so much evil, into one tiny Ring? It was such a small thing, easily hidden. Now, had she had anything to do with it she would never have parted from such a powerful object and if she had had to then that object would have been big…like say a large statue of her…or, even better, a temple so no one could steal it from her. Yes, a temple sounded nice. Someone with powers as great as a God deserved to be worshipped as the Goddess she was!

The light that glowed in her green eyes from her own thoughts of grandeur, not to mention her earlier display of her telepathic powers made the Orcs walk past her, putting as much distance between her and themselves as possible as Phoenix moved through their ranks in Mordor. Normally Orcs feared no man but this firebird of a woman, a flame of pure fury and power, was enough to make even the Orcs stand back in awe and fear. Phoenix despised those slimy, lowly creatures but she had to give Sauron that Orcs were the perfect beings as cannon fodder; seemingly as stupid, cruel and ambitionless as the lowest human she could force to serve her, they fulfilled their function well.

Watching the Orc army get ready Phoenix’s thoughts returned to the Ring and how she could get it. Either the Ring was with Aragorn and his people or it was with Boromir’s younger brother. A cruel smile graced her lips as she recalled Boromir’s defence of his younger brother. Big brother syndrome, the older always protecting the younger. In Boromir’s mind she had seen that during Boromir’s childhood he had often done his best to shield his younger brother from their father’s rage, having taken beatings or scorn for him whenever possible. Yes, Faramir was Boromir’s weakness. If he was in danger Boromir would come running at once and she was sure that when Gondor was attacked Faramir would be sent to protect its borders; he would be in the frontline of fire and thus the first in danger. Though she would prefer to kill Faramir before Boromir’s eyes as payback for his insolence to her then having him arrive too late to save his brother, having to hold his brother’s cold corpse in his embrace…Yes, that idea sounded pleasurable to her as well. She had many plans but common to them all was that Faramir were the key to getting the Ring and getting her revenge on Boromir for his earlier defiance of her.

The Orc army would march into Gondor soon so that would mean that Aragorn and his people would have to come to the defence of Gondor or see Gondor fall and with it the last real defence Middle Earth had. No, they would come, no doubt about that. If nothing else she knew the mind of her ‘dear’ Scott…he would never walk by people who suffered. Her smile became a wide grin. All she had to do was wait. Boromir would come to his brother and country’s aid so even if this cloud of love that seemed to surround him held firm she would be able to get her revenge over him soon enough. She hadn’t forgotten his betrayal and he would pay dearly for it. If he didn’t have the Ring some of the others who would come to Gondor’s defence would have it. It was just a matter of time.

Unfortunately, Phoenix wasn’t a patient woman. The few weeks remaining until Sauron launched a full frontal attack on Gondor felt like years instead of weeks. She needed something to do and killing off Orcs wasn’t something Sauron liked. At the moment she couldn’t defeat Sauron. His magic was too strange to her but as soon as she understood how the Ring could get her back she would love to kill him. He was a bit too dark even for her. What good was it to rule if he killed off every living thing in sight? She wanted worshippers and slaves; not corpses. Besides, she didn’t trust him but then he didn’t trust her either. This was a marriage of convenience, a race against time. Neither of them could kill the other…yet. They needed each other...for now.

An idea came to her. She could always see if she could figure out if those tales about many Elves leaving these lands were true…or she could try and track Aragorn and the others. Maybe she could visit a few human villages to see how great the resistance was in them. Maybe she could get them to pay homage to her already. The thought excited her and she took flight after having mentally gotten an approval from Sauron on her plan as long as she was back in time for the attack on Gondor, which of course she would be…she was not going to miss that. And, of course, he wanted assurance that she got the Ring back soon which she promised…when Sauron had defeated Gondor he would also have the Ring she vowed and that answer pleased him enough to allow her to go her own ways.

Phoenix flew over the lands and smiled to herself. Things were going well. Everything she could want, all the power she could wish for, was within her grasp. Things were going very well indeed.

* * *

Things were not going well at all, Sam was sure of it. Despite all his warnings, Frodo would not heed his advice. After years of friendship, after years of support and comfort and sharing each other’s pain, tears and happiness Sam found that Frodo took Gollum’s words and advice over his. Sam couldn’t deny that it was tearing his heart apart. Frodo had been his friend for years but their friendship ran deeper than words could describe; it was in their very souls. They shared a love that was meant to last forever. Or at least that was what Sam had always thought, what Frodo had assured him of. Now, Sam thought as he cast a grim look after Gollum’s disappearing form, now he wasn’t so sure.

The Ring was weighing Frodo down. He was becoming thinner and was beginning to look like he was plagued by a physical need that pulled at his body just like the one Ring around his neck pulled at his heart and soul. Sam had seen Frodo suffer and had offered to carry the Ring for him but urged on by Gollum’s evil whispers Frodo had believed that his best friend had wanted it for himself. What an absurd thought! Sam wished nothing more than to stay with his beloved friend forever. It pained him to no end to see his friend suffer yet being unable to help him, to ease his suffering.

Things had gotten steadily worse. Frodo had drawn back from him, seeking Gollum’s advice, believing that he would understand him because he too had felt the burden of the Ring. Their rations had been running low and they had had to take a detour into Mordor that went over many high mountains instead of through the large Black Gates. Then tonight things had gone from very bad to explosively bad. Gollum had set him up, making it look like he had eaten the last of their rations. In rage Sam had attacked Gollum only to find Frodo take Gollum’s defence and even worse…Frodo had asked him to leave.

Sam now watched in silent frustration and pain as his best friend disappeared into danger with a being that Sam knew would try to kill him at the first and best opportunity it could so it could steal the Ring from Frodo. Tears fell down his cheeks as Frodo disappeared from view, his body weakening along with his mind and soul by the power of the Ring. His beloved friend was suffering…he was dying.

Sam fought with himself. He had tried to warn Frodo, he had done all he could. Frodo had dismissed him, sent him away as if he was an unwanted pet…as if their friendship was nothing. That hurt deeply. With tears blinding him Sam began to walk slowly back toward the Shire and away from Frodo. He had done all he could do. He had done more than anyone could ask. Frodo had been nothing but suspicious and mean to him for weeks now…he had sent him away. Really, what more of a hint did he need? Frodo didn’t want him…maybe their friendship had never meant as much to Frodo as it had to Sam? Fear and doubt filled Sam’s soul. Maybe Frodo had just been using him, easing his loneliness by taking on a friend who was loyal and stupid enough to never push or demand more than he was willing to give? Was he a fool? Had he been played? Had his deep friendship with Frodo been nothing but a lie?

Caught up in his own misery, Sam didn’t notice where he was going and ended up falling downhill from the mountain he had started to climb with Frodo and Gollum to reach Mordor on the other side. Sam lay still for a moment as he came to a halt on the mountainside, letting the minor physical pain be intensified by the pain in his heart and soul as tears freely fell, self-pity laying itself as a blanket around him. With a determined shake of his head Sam forced himself to his feet and he wiped his tears away with an almost angry gesture. No, he wouldn’t believe that Frodo had used him. If Frodo asked him to leave one day, without the Ring nearby, then he would do so but as long as the Ring was near…and Frodo was weakening more and more as time went on...maybe the Ring needed to destroy everything good? Maybe it needed to get Sam away so he couldn’t protect Frodo from Gollum and so the bond of love that existed between the two long-time friends would no longer protect Frodo’s heart from the coldness of the Ring? Or maybe Sam was just desperate now, reaching? Wanting so much to find a reason, any reason, to explain his friend’s coldness other than what his words had said; that Frodo did not want Sam anymore. A sudden calm settled over Sam as he with steady hands began to climb back up the mountain, ignoring the bruises his fall had given his body. If there was just the slightest chance that Frodo was in danger then he had to save him, no matter what. Even if Frodo never had or no longer did care for him, Sam still loved his friend. He couldn’t just stand by and let Frodo get hurt just because his emotions and pride had been hurt. With that in mind Sam began to climb the mountain, knowing he had fallen at least half a day behind Frodo and Gollum. Still, he could not rest, wouldn’t give up until he was sure Frodo was safe and that wouldn’t be until the Ring had been destroyed. Sam was going to rescue his friend from himself and from any other danger, whether or not Frodo himself wished to be rescued!

His love and determination carried Sam onward, not knowing just how desperately his help was needed.


	28. Book 3: Chapter 3: Matters Of Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and sacrifice as the war continues

###  Chapter 3: Matters Of Sacrifice

There was no time for celebrating the victory at Isengard and Helm’s Deep; the price for their victory had been too high for any real cheer and the threat was still there. They had won the first round but that was all.

Scott and the others had returned to Edoras three days earlier and the city was buzzing with activity. The dead were being buried, the wounded were being tended to, defences were being prepared and couriers were riding in and out of town, going and coming to the Golden Hall, the King of Rohan’s palace, in a steady stream with any news about the Orcs’ movements. Eomer was in charge of trying to find out how many soldiers they could get their hands on for a coming battle while Eowyn and Ororo were in charge of tending to the wounded. This was all a part of their attempt to set up a kind of command chain to get some order back to the shattered and chaotic army they had returned with from Helm’s Deep. Gandalf, Aragorn, Haldir and King Theoden made plans with Scott, speaking for the X-men, about their future cause of action and thus they stayed in the palace, studying maps and trying to find a solution with just a little chance of success. Most of the palace had been rearranged to fit the wounded Elves, as they required more delicate tending than mortals while most of the surrounding houses had been set up for the mortals who had been wounded. Ororo and Eowyn ran from room to room, from building to building, telling their nurses and helpers what they wanted done. Despite the fact that neither of them was educated as doctors they both had some basic training and for now that was the best they had. Gimli was given the task of keeping track of their weapons and finding ways to get or make more and have some of their men do so. Boromir was assigned the task of providing for the army and the town in general which was an extremely difficult task. There was little food left as the Orcs burned what fields they came across and everyone was afraid to venture too far outside the capital to try and harvest food. However Boromir was a leader who led by example and when his ever faithful followers of Merry and Pippin wanted to go with him outside the city’s walls to gather food the assigned soldiers under Boromir hadn’t backed out either. Boromir had without luck tried to get Merry and Pippin to stay in the relative safety of the palace but they had been firm and he had given in. There was probably very little he wouldn’t give them if they asked him. Logan, Legolas and Rogue had with a band of soldiers been assigned to patrol and intel gathering. Legolas and Logan’s enhanced senses would be of help in this. Rogue’s powers hadn’t faded away yet and that would be a great asset should they be attacked. If nothing else the lighting effect when she used her powers could be seen from the palace and could give those left in the capital a little time in which to prepare for the incoming Orcs. However they all knew that if Rogue had had to use her powers Legolas, Logan and herself would already be dead by the time the city got their warning and chances were the warning could not save the city either.

Ororo’s thoughts returned from her musings over how they had organized things as she almost bumped into Eowyn who was on her way downstairs from having tended to some of the wounded Elves in the upper chambers of the palace. The golden princess looked tired and worn, her expression was grim and blood splashed the plain dress she had changed into. A small bloody stain was also visible on her left cheek. She gave a small surprised sound as she bumped into Ororo and almost lost her balance on the stairs, trying to balance the tray with crude instruments and bloody bandages she had in her arms. Ororo instinctively steadied the other woman with a wind, preventing her from falling.

“Thank you,” Eowyn breathed relieved and smiled her first real smile in days at her comrade in arms. Ororo noticed the pain in her eyes and her own spirits fell even further.

“Did…” she didn’t know how to ask, she already knew the answer but still hoped that Eowyn would give her the answer she wanted to hear instead. This was why she had left Eowyn to tend to the Elves until now. She didn’t want to risk losing one of those beautiful immortal creatures to death. It seemed degrading to have these beings die like this; in pain, filthy from death, blood, dirt and battle. It wasn’t right. It made her heart ache and she kept imagining that it could be Legolas, making her have to fight an urge to run to him and tell him how much she loved him…that he couldn’t die and leave her like that after she had ripped her own heart apart to save his life. But she couldn’t do that. Her love would kill him; not save him. Oh, how bitter love in truth could be. All her life she had wished for true love and now when she had found it…it was deadly.

“Yes, I lost another,” Eowyn sighed frustrated and balanced the tray in one hand so she could grab Ororo’s arm with the other. “I have not asked before because I have respected your reasons to stay away but Ororo, please tend to the Elves for me for a few days. I will take the mortals now but I swear I can feel a part of my soul dying each time I lose one of them. I cannot take it any more. I need a break,” her voice and eyes plead with Ororo who briefly closed her eyes in anguish.

“You do lose a part of your soul,” Ororo whispered softly. She had felt those Elves die. Being healed by Legolas had given her that gift or maybe curse was a better word. She couldn’t shield herself from it, couldn’t outrun it. She wasn’t a psychic on any level like the Elves who had some mild mental abilities. She had no shields…Each time an Elf died she felt red hot needles of pain go into her skull and tear her apart, sometimes making her fall to the floor and gasping for breath for the about five minutes the intense agony lasted.

“Ororo, please…just for a few days. I am…I feel like I am dying. I need some distance between them and me should more die. I need some time to heal…Heal my soul I guess it is,” Eowyn tried to explain and the agony of it was that Ororo knew what she meant. Even though what Eowyn felt was mild compared to what Ororo could feel as she wasn’t linked to the Elves like she was. Then again, having so many Elves together, in pain, some dying, would surely send out waves of pain that even Eowyn as a normal human would pick up on. Ororo was suddenly very happy that the other Elves, Legolas in particular, had their own mental shields so that they at least didn’t have to feel the agony she did when an Elf died. It had been easier for her during the battle of Helm’s Deep; the deaths had been sudden, the mental connection so to speak had been instantly severed. It had given her a short strong pain in her mind but nothing like this where the moment of death seemed dragged out until it was pure torture.

“I will tend to them for the next three days,” Ororo gave in and forced a smile for the young woman.

Eowyn smiled back in gratitude. “I will tell my uncle and Scott. They should still be in the large dinning hall debating battle plans,” Eowyn said, frowning at the mere thought of more battle after all the wounded and dying she had seen which was a result of that.

At Ororo’s nod Eowyn went downstairs while Ororo forced herself to continue up. What hurt her the most was that many of the mortals and elves died of wounds which could have been so easily healed had they been in her own time and place and not in Middle Earth where the smallest cut could kill you if it got infected.

Ororo pushed away her own feelings of dismay, sadness and pain as she stood at the top of the stairs. If Elves were telepaths, even on a very low level then any negative energy could harm their healing. She knew that there were no handicapped Elves; they would either make a complete recovery or they would die. She thought for a while, searching for a way to aid them. Elves…Rivendell…flowers, light, beauty, fresh air, love…Elves were immortal yet they could still die…An idea struck her. They had been trying to heal the Elves as if they were mortals instead of the eternal creatures they were. Haldir and Aragorn had tried to explain, had tried to tell them of the Elven soul and spirit and both Ororo and Eowyn had thought they had understood and thus the two men had returned to their various tasks. Ororo found that they hadn’t done anything wrong but that there were things they could do to add to the Elves’ chances of recovery.

She opened up the windows to the fresh air outside, brought flowers and put them all over the rooms with the injured Elves, she ordered anything dirty or blooded which was in proximity to the Elves washed and cleaned, including the Elves themselves. She went in search for the most beautiful, softest and delicate materials to make robes for the Elves and she got the most beautiful and peaceful paintings from the palace hung up on the walls in the rooms of the injured Elves. Not sure if it would help she finally got a young boy to play some Elfish songs for the injured, going from room to room. Yes, now the Elves had something beautiful, something peaceful to anchor their souls to as they fought through their healing back toward life.

Satisfied that she had done all she could Ororo began to check up on her immortal patients, redressing wounds and making sure everyone was eating and drinking. The latter was the hardest on those who had lost a loved one in the battle. Their grief wanted to pull them toward the edges of life and then push them over so they could join the one they missed in death. Well, that was not going to happen on Ororo’s watch! Right now she went to sit with a beautiful young male Elf with long dark hair who had lost his twin brother in the battle at Helm’s Deep. Physically he was out of danger, he had only gotten an arrow through his leg, easily repaired, even on an Elf. However he didn’t want to heal nor did he want to eat or drink. Without the will to heal his wound got worse and if she couldn’t bring him out soon she would lose him to his grief.

“You really should try to eat,” Ororo said gently for the nth time to the young Elf who lay and watched the ceiling with an intensely pained look. He hadn’t moved at all even as she sat beside him even though she knew he must have heard her approach him from miles away. She fiddled with the bowl of fruits and the goblet of water she had gotten for all the Elves. It had been hard getting so many different fruits for the Elves but the immortal beings did not eat meat as they in general were beings of peace who would never attack unless it was literally to protect their own lives. They did not believe in taking lives, not even the life of any animal and Ororo felt humanity had a great lesson to learn about what the very essence of humanity should be all about by watching the peaceful and tolerant Elves.

“I have no desire for anything,” the Elf replied, even now, at the brink of his own destruction the Elf kept about him his dignity and minded his manners, answering her in a soft and kind enough voice though it was laced with grief.

“You and yours have been given the best of what little fruit we have. Boromir has had to work hard to get this for you,” Ororo changed tactics to guilt, hoping it also worked on Elves.

“Send my thanks to Lord Boromir and then give the fruit to someone who has more need for it,” the Elf’s voice was still polite but his eyes never left some imagined spot in the ceiling. Ororo drew a deep breath. Elves might be eternal and beautiful but damn they could be annoying as all hell as well! She had barely slept in three days and in that time had seen little else than blood and death. She was exhausted beyond words, sad and her entire soul was still in shreds over the loss of Legolas and the pain of having felt some of the Elves die during those three days hadn’t added to her well being at all. She had forced herself to eat and drink but hadn’t managed much. Yesterday she had had morning sickness practically all day and this whole situation was driving her insane.

“I’ve tried being kind and sympathetic and that haven’t worked so let’s try something else,” Ororo’s voice and manners changed into command mode, explaining why she had been chosen as Scott’s second in command of the X-men. “We’re outnumbered, outgunned and the whole fate of this world and probably the entire cosmos with Phoenix on the loose, hangs in the balance. If you truly want to die then be my guest, you alone should control the fate of your own body, but I ask that you do so after whatever battle Scott, the kings and your own commander agrees to. Is that clear?”

Surprise and shock at her direct and harsh tone made the young Elf turn and look at her. With a stern look Ororo pressed an apple into the Elf’s hand before she with great care eased him up so he sat up in bed with a pillow behind his back. The Elf hesitated for a minute more but Ororo gestured irritated to him and he took a bite, casting her the closest to a dirty look Ororo had ever seen an Elf using. Ororo smiled in triumph as she sat back down on the chair beside his bed.

“You are a most fascinating woman, Your Highness,” the young Elf said softly, his voice holding awe and a sudden understanding as if he had just solved the puzzle of the universe.

“I’m not royalty,” Ororo corrected him gently.

The Elf raised an eyebrow at her. “The child you carry is not the child of Prince Legolas?”

Ororo looked shocked and instinctively put a hand on her stomach which was beginning to become a little round but nothing noticeable yet, especially not with the loose dress she wore. No one else knew; how could this Elf know? Puzzlement coloured her voice as she asked, “How did you know?”

  
”I am an Elf of the Golden Wood. The spirit of life and growth runs strongly through us,” the young Elven warrior explained.

Ororo got the general idea of what he said but the whole set of rules on which this world operated, namely that of magic, was beyond her comprehension. “The Golden Wood? Where Galadriel is Queen?” Ororo asked, recalling the beautiful and powerful magical being they had encountered there.

“Yes.” The Elf studied her for a while and then said softly, with strong insight, “you have not told the Prince of Mirkwood of the child you carry?”

“No,” Ororo’s eyes found his and she added, “will he know?”

  
“That you are carrying his child?” Ororo nodded. “No. Elves of Mirkwood do not have this ability as we do. He will know when a mortal man would know.”

“Good,” she said softly, releasing the breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. She hated keeping this from Legolas, she felt like he had a right to know but she was also sure that if he knew of the baby then he would do the honourable thing and return to her…and thus kill himself in the process. No, he could never know.

“Why do you not wish the Prince to know?” The young Elf looked slightly puzzled and curious now. “This child you are carrying has been prophesised. It will fulfil a great destiny,” foreseeing her question by the look in her eyes he continued, “I do not know much about this prophecy or the child’s destiny. All I know are these words which were spoken to me: A child of great destiny shall be born unto the world, forged during battle, made from the love between a Prince and a Goddess.”

Ororo squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, her cheeks blushing hot red. This wasn’t her. Her life wasn’t some predetermined prophecy! She didn’t even like the thought of it. Besides she wasn’t a real Goddess…this was absurd! No way was she having any part in any prophecy! Aragorn could keep that stuff all to himself, thank you very much. “I don’t know what you mean. It was an accident. I was careless. I should never had let this happen,” Ororo mumbled under her breath, her eyes avoiding his. Then her mind caught up her with her and cut through her feeling of discomfort over the Elf’s words and she looked at him. “Prophesied? By who?”

“By the lady Galadriel of course,” now the young Elf was obviously confused by her lack of knowledge. “She did tell you this herself. I heard as much with my own ears the day you and yours were before her.”

  
Ororo looked perplexed at him. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he had told her that the moon was just an illusion made by a very powerful wizard…though in this time of magic who knew if that really was that far-fetched. She killed that thought right there and blamed sleep deprivation for even having thought it up.

“I don’t think she ever told me I would become pregnant. I would have remembered something like that,” she insisted. Known it and avoided it, she added silently. Not that she didn’t love this child she was carrying but it was bittersweet agony to carry the child of the man she loved when she knew he was also the man she would have to leave and never see again without having told him that she did love him.

“She told you that you would be the bridge between two worlds,” the Elf began to explain.

“She meant my child. My child is that bridge between two worlds. His and my own,” Ororo suddenly realised and the Elf nodded.

“I would assume so.”

Suddenly her anger flared. “She could have been more precise and not so annoyingly mysterious!”

“I do apologise if somehow me or mine brought you offence, Your Highness, but I do not understand your distress,” the Elf admitted and received a glance of fire from Ororo.

“Well, we can start with me being a single parent!” she exploded. “I don’t really see anything mystical or romantic about struggling with anything from money to education all on my own not to mention that I never asked for a child, least of all without a husband and in the middle of one of the bloodiest wars I’ve ever seen which may yet kill me!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and she could see her words had visibly shaken the young Elf. “I’m sorry…I’m…tired,” she apologised, trying for a kind smile.

“Are you saying Prince Legolas has died?” The Elf asked shocked.

“No, of course not!” Ice surrounded her heart and panic rose in her. “At least I hope not. He’s with Logan and Rogue out patrolling the borders, looking for any news to bring us.”

  
“Then why do you claim you have no husband?” The Elf’s panic had left his eyes but he was obviously confused. “Has Prince Legolas rejected you?”

  
”No!” This conversation was beginning to kill her, making her heart bleed painfully over the loss of Legolas all over again.

“Then why?”

  
Ororo sighed deeply and looked and sounded as tired as if she was a hundred years old. “Why what?”

  
“Why would you claim you have no husband when Prince Legolas is your husband?”

Ororo almost fell out of her chair in shock. “What?”

The Elf stared surprised at her. “You did not know?”

  
”That I had married someone without even saying ‘I do’? No!” Ororo shook her head and paced the floor in front of the Elf’s bed. This was insane. It couldn’t be happening. Her most wonderful dream, to marry a man who cared for her as much as Legolas had done and who she loved with all of her heart was turning into a nightmare.

“I am unfamiliar with that reference,” the Elf admitted but then explained, “between our kind to consent to lying with someone for the night is the same as consenting to marriage.”

  
“So, you’re saying in the instant you’re having sex you’re also married?” Ororo wanted to be clear on that and her head was aching almost as much as her heart.

“Sex?” The Elf looked confused.

“Sexual intercourse…lying with someone,” she elaborated until recognition appeared in the Elf’s eyes.

“Yes.”

  
She sat back down in the chair she had just left and stared shaken at him, shocked beyond words, but then tried to smile a little, trying to force her brain to work properly once again. “Wait till I tell Logan this; sex means marriage. He’ll probably try to get Xavier to propose it to Congress…At least we’ll be over this mutant marriage debate where some claim all mutants are second class citizens and thus can only get civil unions and shouldn’t be allowed to marry…Hitler himself couldn’t have made a better sign of discrimination than this…In fact I think he **did** do something like this,” she mused out loud, a hint of bitterness in her words at this intolerant and unjust law proposal put forth in many nations and sadly also in her own, the supposed land of freedom and tolerance that she called home. However a smile came to her lips as she imagined an eager Logan talking Xavier into suggesting this. Logan knew well that the only reason he had managed to get married to Rogue was because the law hadn’t been passed at the time they got married. If the law got passed there would be DNA scans which would tell if you were a mutant and if you were…no wedding for you. Next on the list was excluding schools and other public institutions from mutants…not a pleasant future at all that Xavier and his X-men had to fight against. Her smile disappeared at once when she recalled that Xavier was not here and that she might never see him again.

“Are you well, Your Highness?” the Elf asked, puzzled by her words, having not understood their meaning but he had caught the bitterness and pain in them.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she made a visible effect to gather her wits about her and her thoughts and focus returned to the present situation. Okay, so she was married. _Get over it_ , she mentally scolded herself. “Can a marriage be broken?”

  
”No but it can be blocked which means that neither partner needs to fulfil any marriage obligations and they need never see each other again. However, unless they have very strong reasons, like mental or physical abuse or that the marriage was done without both partners consent, neither person in a blocked marriage may remarry. Given that Elves are telepathic then very few marriages end in blockings as we know the very soul of the person we propose marriage to. However if there are strong reasons for it then a blocked marriage can be annulled so remarriage is possible. And naturally the marriage is dissolved in the event of one of the partners’ death and the survivor is free to remarry if he or she has not joined his or her mate in death.”

 _By the Goddess…I think I’ve just divorced or rather ‘blocked’ Legolas!_ Ororo realised in horror, recalling her painful break-up with him. “Can…can an Elf survive this ‘blocking’?” she hoped her voice was stronger than it sounded to her own ears.

  
“If he or she never loved his or her partner or if the blocking was done so soon that such feelings didn’t have time to develop then yes,” the Elf held a carefully neutral expression, too polite to even speculate as to why she was asking.

She drew a relieved breath. Then she was still saving him! It wasn’t too late. Legolas couldn’t have such deep feelings for her because if he had surely he would have tried to keep her more strongly…unless he respected her decision too much to try and change her mind. No, she couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t possibly love her. She quickly fought down the sting of sadness this realization brought her. He was still safe and that was all that mattered. _Thank the Goddess!_ She thought. If both Legolas and herself survived the war she could tell Legolas that she had never agreed to the marriage and thus it had been without her consent. It should leave him free to remarry after she left him. It was painful just to imagine saying those words and even worse to imagine Legolas with someone new but it was better than having him die.

  
“Thank you for telling me,” Ororo said warmly and squeezed the Elf’s slender and elegant fingers on his right hand for a moment. Then one of the women from the village who was helping her called for her and she rose. “Please don’t tell anyone of this conversation.”

  
”You have my solemn oath on that, Your Highness,” the Elf promised and Ororo smiled warmly, relieved.

“Thank you,” she turned to go but then threw him a smile over her shoulder, “and eat all that fruit. I’ll be back to check on you.”

The warm laughter of the young Elf followed Ororo down the hallway and gave her a few precious moments of peace of mind before her legs gave way under her and she slid to the floor, crying so hard she thought her eyes would dry out forever. Her heart felt like it was being torn to pieces and she put an arm over her abdomen to try and stop the invisible pain. Why should she hurt Legolas so much? Why should she hurt so much herself? _Oh, sweet merciful Goddess…make it all stop! This was too much!_

She fought to get herself under control. She couldn’t break down like this. There were wounded to tend to. She was still second in command of the X-men. _No time for self-pity. Get off the floor!_ She ordered herself sternly and she forced herself to obey. With an angry hand she wiped her tears away and adjusted her clothes a little before she hurried on to the next room that the woman had called her into, forcing a friendly smile on her face but her eyes were dead.

* * *

“Fact of the matter is still that we’re outnumbered with too few resources to draw on. If nothing else we need to have some factors on our side like our own choosing of time and place for the battle,” Scott said with a sigh as he leaned over to look at the map of Middle Earth and more specifically Rohan, Gondor and Mordor that was laid out on the large wooden table where Gandalf, Aragorn, Haldir and king Theoden had been debating this issue with him for three days now. Things didn’t look good. They still hadn’t gotten a precise number from Eomer on their own soldiers but from his estimate then it wasn’t nearly enough to defeat Mordor’s incoming Orc army. Gimli’s report was also underway but they seemed in as much need of weapons and ammo as everything else. They also still needed reports from Boromir on food as well as reports on supplies and on how many wounded could keep fighting but things still looked grim. Scott turned to Haldir who after having washed, changed and shaved looked as royal and regal as ever. It had been bliss to finally be able to have those simple luxuries as a bath and clean clothes after their dirty and bloody battle. Never again would Scott take the comforts of a bathroom for granted. “Haldir, can we expect help from other Elves?”

Haldir looked thoughtful for a moment and sought the eyes of Aragorn, his old friend, for a moment, a silent apology in his eyes, before his attention returned to Scott and he answered, “I do not know for sure but I would not count on it. Many Elves have already departed from these lands yet many have remained. These are uncertain times.”

  
“Yeah, well…What I wouldn’t give for a cell phone right about now. That would take some of that away quickly enough,” Scott said with a wishful tone even though the others just stared strangely at him, not understanding the reference. Part of their problem was this long wait and total lack of intel and information. It was getting on Scott’s nerves in the extreme after three days of little food, sleep and intense stress. That he had had to send his own people on different assignments hadn’t helped either. Scott had absolute trust in his fellow X-men and their skills but after all they had been subject to he didn’t like letting them out of his sight. Logan and Rogue were the ones in the most dangerous situation at the moment but he had made a choice based on whose skills would be best suited for that assignment and together with Legolas those were obvious candidates. In all the chaos and stress he still hadn’t had time to speak to Ororo about her and Legolas’s break-up as he had wanted to. He hadn't had time to talk with Boromir about his torture or Rogue about how she felt about her disappearing powers either. All were issues and emotional traumas he knew should be resolved as soon as possible but as so often in war situations such issues would have to wait for a while.

For a moment, he indulged himself in reliving the only highlight of the day; seeing Eowyn for all of a few seconds as she had informed them she was changing position with Ororo and to let them know that she had found 10 Elves fit for duty, five others were out of danger and sadly one had just died, news that Haldir had taken the hardest but Aragorn had also seemed very saddened by it, though none of them seemed surprised by the news as they always were attuned to the Elves around them and had probably felt the death. As always, Scott’s warm feelings towards Eowyn left him with a mixture of warmth and cold guilt, torn between his love for Jean, the woman he had loved since childhood and the woman he had married, and his blooming affection for Eowyn. In so many ways she was the opposite of Jean; younger, sweeter, calmer, more respectful and graceful but with an edge of steel to her beauty, a trait she **did** share with Jean. As always when he thought of Jean it was tinged with sadness, like the bittersweetness one gets when remembering something beautiful which has suddenly been destroyed, shattered into a thousand pieces. With a mental shake of his head he pushed his emotions and inner turmoil aside. He had no time for that now.

  
”I can ride to Gondor and ask them to join our army. Maybe together we can meet the forces of Mordor,” Gandalf suggested but Aragorn looked doubtful yet hopeful.

“Without Boromir or his brother as leader we cannot be sure of a positive outcome,” he warned, knowing enough about Boromir’s father to know that for a certainty.

“Gondor will not aid us,” Theoden said strongly, bitterly.

“Maybe it’s more us who aids them,” Haldir spoke up. “Mordor’s forces will most likely attack Gondor before they attack these lands.”

  
“I say we bring Gondor in on our plan then so we can arrange a date and a place where we strike together,” Scott said and the others nodded.

“Should you bring Boromir? Maybe he can soften his father,” Haldir suggested, from the little he knew of Boromir’s father he knew he would be a hard man to talk to.

“I do not think it is a good idea to take Lord Boromir too close to the borders of Mordor,” Gandalf said thoughtfully.

“He will not betray us,” Aragorn said, a hint of protectiveness towards his friend in his voice.

“Not willingly, I agree but he is bound to the Ring which is pure evil. His life force could alert the forces of Mordor of his presence,” Gandalf warned.

“Like a homing device,” Scott explained but was only met with blank looks so he shook his head and smiled weakly. “Never mind.”

  
“Bring Pippin with you and have him speak to Boromir’s brother. That should be more than enough motivation for him to aid you and persuade his father to agree to our plan,” Aragorn suggested even though he hated having to force Boromir to part from one of his Little Ones but it couldn’t be helped.

“Very well,” Gandalf nodded in agreement. “I shall…” Whatever he was about to say was cut short as Logan, Rogue and Legolas entered the large hall, all wearing grim faces. With concern Scott noticed that Legolas looked very pale, almost like porcelain. There was something wrong with him, Scott was sure of it. By the worried look Aragorn cast his friend Scott knew he was right. The thin Elf looked weak enough to fall from a breeze but still walked with grace and strength towards them. As soon as he reached them Aragorn left his chair and helped Legolas sit down into one, ignoring the Elf’s half-hearted protests. Scott was relieved to see them all alright but the dark gleam in Logan’s eyes worried him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as Logan and Rogue reached him. All eyes turned to the couple and Rogue held Logan’s hand inside her own gloved one, a similar dark look on her own face.

“We were heading towards Gondor’s borders when news reached us from there,” Logan started but then hesitated for a few seconds.

Scott got a bad feeling from the sympathetic look in Logan’s eyes; it took a lot for Logan to let his sympathy for the younger man show. “Just tell me,” he asked of him, his voice somewhere between a command and a plea.

“Scott,” Rogue reached out and put a comforting gloved hand on his right arm. “We were met by fleeing villagers who told us some of the border villages have been destroyed, hundreds of people massacred.”

“Orcs?” King Theoden asked with a hint of dread in his voice. They couldn’t take another attack so soon.

“No, Phoenix,” Logan said, his voice grim.

All colour left Scott’s face. He should have expected this…he should have…He felt a wave of pain and nausea hit him like someone had punched him.

“Jean,” the word was a soft plea as his feet suddenly seemed too weak to hold him up…Hundreds of people dead, slain by his love’s own hand…Oh, God!

“Easy,” Logan’s voice was calm as he easily caught the younger man before he fell and helped him into a chair with Rogue’s help.

“Deep breaths,” Rogue advised and drew calming circles on his back with her gloved hand.

“Scott, one of these days we’re gonna have to face her,” Logan said, his voice firm. “You have got to let go. She is not Jean. She’s Phoenix now. The woman you loved is dead.”

“No!” Scott shook his head in denial.

“God damn it!” Logan swore and with a hard hand under Scott’s chin he forced him to look up and into his own eyes, which reflected anger and shared pain. “If you don’t let her go Phoenix will kill you. She’ll use Jean against you, you know she will.”

  
Scott didn’t know what to say because Logan was right. He tore himself free from Logan’s grip and Logan let him, knowing that he could have held him firm with his added strength his metal skeleton gave him if he had wanted to.

“You wouldn’t be that quick to call her dead if she was your own wife,” Scott protested.

“He may have to face that decision,” Rogue said softly and all eyes turned to her. She met their glances evenly. “I know as well as any of you that this power I have been given is calling to me. I like it. I like being able to help as much as I have been able to do after I got this gift. Those things make me dangerous.”

“No, sweetheart,” Logan protested and tried to take her into his embrace but she evaded him.

“Yes and you know it. I will try and fight it but if I fail I want to know that Logan will kill me before I kill innocent people,” her words were for all of them, especially Scott but her request was made to Logan and her eyes and voice were filled with certainty and love as they met and held Logan’s.

“Darlin’, don’t ask this of me,” his words were a soft whisper but the anguish in them was clear.

She forced a smile and went into his embrace and laid her head on his shoulder and he held her tight. After a little while she drew back and tears glistened on her cheeks.

“Do this because you love me…Do not let me become something I’m not,” her eyes seemed to pierce Logan’s very soul. “Please…don’t make me beg for this.”

  
Logan shook his head and held his own tears back as he wiped hers away too fast for her mutation to touch him.

“I would never do that to you.” His voice was tight with emotions as he fought for control before he kissed the top of her head as gentle as a butterfly kisses the morning sun. “I give you my word, darlin’. No matter what happens I’ll stay with you till the end…you will never leave my embrace.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes and voice saying so much more than the words, knowing how much she had asked from a man who had sworn he would never harm her…who had sworn he would kill anyone who even thought of harming her.

“Let us all hope your vow never have to be tested, Logan,” Gandalf said solemnly and the others nodded in agreement.

Rogue made an effort to pull herself together and looked back to Scott. “We couldn’t see her so chances are Phoenix isn’t around here at the moment,” she told him gently.

“Scott…will you be able to kill her if it comes to that for if not we need to know now,” Logan asked, his voice not unkind though he had gotten himself under control as well, willing himself to hide his conversation with his wife in the darkest corner of his mind, refusing to consider it unless that moment should arise.

Scott looked thoughtful and torn for a long moment. “I…I do not know. I have loved her always. She is my wife.”

  
“Scott,” Logan began gently but firmly. “Whatever vow you gave her has lost its meaning. Keeping to your marriage vows and bonds is only your way of punishing yourself for something you had no control over,” Logan raised a hand to prevent Scott from voicing his protest and continued, “ Jean’s powers went wild, her own passion consumed her, with or without Sauron aiding in her fall the fact is that she has fallen. She is no longer Jean.”

“I…” Scott shook his head. “I’m still not sure if I can kill her. She wears Jean’s face.”

“She’s Jean only in image,” Rogue reminded him softly but after that the room went silent for a few seconds, no one knowing what to say as Scott fought to regain his balance.

“I will get ready to leave and find Pippin. I need to talk to Boromir as well,” Gandalf said into the sudden silence and left.

Scott forced himself to stand and pull himself together. He looked Logan in the eye, his gaze steady and calm now. “I will make my decision when that time arises. For now we have other matters to attend to.”

Logan nodded in agreement. This could wait…for now. But soon…Very soon Scott’s decision would have to be made and sadly Logan knew how faithful a man Scott was. He wasn’t sure he would be able to kill his own heart. Scott was a great commander and leader but he was also a much kinder and gentler man even toward strangers than Logan in general was toward people he called friends. If Scott couldn’t do this then Logan would do it for him. However something told him that he might not have the possibility of aiding him and he himself was torn apart. He loved Rogue more than life itself and the very thought of having to kill her was repulsive to him yet it was that kind of sacrifice he asked of Scott. How could he ask his friend to make such a sacrifice? How could he ask it of himself? Not for the first time Logan wished his friends and him had never been taken to this world, never been faced with choices no man should be faced with. This mission could very well end up killing them all…even if some of them made it out alive. He knew that if he had to kill Rogue…he would do so, he would honour Rogue’s request but he would kill himself as well even if he survived. This was too much to ask for, too much to take in.

Years of military training enabled Logan to push the whole matter aside and he laid an arm around Rogue’s waist, needing to hold her close. Still, in the back of his mind a dark shadow of what tomorrow could bring was growing and he feared all he would see was an endless line of graves…always graves and himself always being the one who had to do the burying.


	29. Book 3: Chapter 4: Before The Steward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbits meet the Steward

###  Chapter 4: Before The Steward

The ride to Gondor had taken longer than Gandalf had hoped it would but it had luckily proved to be uneventful save for Pippin’s constant pleas to stop for food.

While Gandalf had been worried about greater matters, the Ring, the coming war and maybe even the future of the universe itself Pippin’s mind was preoccupied with more personal issues. He missed Merry who he had rarely been separated from for more than a few days and he missed Boromir, the man who had become so dear to both Hobbits. Boromir had first been angry and then sad as he had seen that he had to let Pippin out of his sight. His worry when he had seen Pippin off together with Merry had been so profound that his silent and controlled farewell had threatened to be more emotional than Merry’s tears. Remembering Boromir’s loving and plentiful stories and tales about his beloved homeland and the capital where he had grown up Pippin had been shocked to see not a glorious city but a battle worn one. The city seemed ready to fall any time; only held safe by its natural defences of mountains and stonewalls. Everyone seemed weary of war and the constant fear they lived in. Yet, despite it all Captain Faramir, Boromir’s brother who had met them at the gates to Minas Tirith and had guided them to the palace, still commanded his men with courage and honour.

Gandalf and Pippin had been taken to the Steward, Boromir and Faramir’s father, and he was indeed an impressive and unyielding man. Gandalf had been debating with the Steward for many hours now and even the Wizard’s patience was beginning to run out. The old ruler refused to believe that Boromir was still alive despite Faramir, Gandalf and Pippin’s promises to the contrary and he seemed sure that Gondor would fall. His grief had turned into an ice cold depression and anger flavoured with such illogic and inconsistency that Gandalf’s thoughts were moving towards the suspicion that the Steward was going mad. On top of that, his hostility toward his youngest son made Pippin understand why Boromir had asked the Hobbit to look after his brother, a task that had pleased the young hobbit and filled him with pride, knowing Boromir would ask such an important task of him.

“Your Lordship **must** join forces with Rohan and the Elves. We **must** choose our own battle ground as much as such is possible,” Gandalf tried for the nth time, his patience at an end. To both Wizard and Hobbit’s irritation neither had been asked to sit. The Steward sat before them at a table where he had now been served food but his guests would not be offered anything as long as they continued this folly, as the ruler had put it. Not even Faramir who had been called to answer to these plans of Gandalf’s had been allowed to sit but the young warrior seemed used to this and also used to his father’s brusque tone toward him though it was clear his father’s disapproval in him still pained him. Pippin had quickly grown tired of playing polite and had demonstratively seated himself on the floor when he got tired of standing. Gandalf and Faramir remained standing though, both standing tall and proud but both shifting their feet or moving around a bit to try and get as comfortable as possible.

“If Boromir had been here he would have been able to hold the forces of Mordor at bay at the outer borders of Osgiliath,” the Steward said with a displeased look at Faramir who, as always, took this offence upon himself silently. The outer borders of Gondor had been breached by the Orcs some days ago despite Faramir and his men’s bravest efforts to thwart them. Only a few men had survived the bloody battle when Faramir had called for a retreat to save as many men as he could, seeing this battle was doomed as they had been horribly outnumbered.

“I heard that Captain Faramir almost died trying to hold the outer lines,” Gandalf reminded the Steward before he continued more urgently, “Your Lordship. By your own troops’ reports the Orcs are moving in closer. If you set up a defence closer to home instead of trying to reclaim the outer lines we can battle the Orcs where we will have the advantage of having the higher ground. In the mean time call for help from the forces I have helped gather while we still have a chance at controlling the battle. Maybe let a small force distract the Orcs by pretending to set up a heavy defence at the East while Rohan’s forces arrive from the North. While you build the distraction we can simultaneously work on the real defences and the real plan to get help from the North. If you allow help to be sent from Rohan and the Elves we can still be able to do this before the Orcs dictate the terms of this battlefield.”

  
“Not another word, Wizard!” the Steward snarled. “Rohan will never come to our aid and Elves,” the old man gave a short humourless laugh, “they care not for the fate of men.”

  
“Father, please reconsider,” Faramir got in. “My brother obviously thinks this is…”

“Do not dare say his name!” his father cut him off, his tone final and angry. He gave him a stern look. “Please you say. Ha! Pleading is for the weak and thus I gather that the word suits you well…Weak as you are and always were with your books and music. I’m sure you would love to have those cursed Elves here given how you have always been so fascinated by them but I will have none of it. You hear me?” His eyes had taken on a mad look but despite it all he was still Steward of Gondor and still Faramir’s father and thus had to be obeyed.

“Yes, Sire,” Faramir said softly, giving him a small nod of his head, fighting to hide his pain and shame at his father’s words. He fought to hold onto Boromir’s kind and encouraging words to him but it was hard when he stood here before his father, feeling his rage as he had so many times before in his life.

“Do you not hear anything I say?” Gandalf asked harshly. “This is our only chance. Signal Rohan for help. Ignite the fire that will travel to reach Rohan. Call reinforcements.”

  
“Gondor will not beg for help from anyone, least of all Elves and certainly not from the cursed Aragorn who thinks himself to be King of Gondor!” The Steward snarled.

“Sire, my brother has accepted him as king, he told me as much himself…” Faramir began softly, not daring to address him as father again.

“Your brother is dead and…” His father seemed to consider for a while how to continue, momentarily stopping his angry rebuke.

“And?” Faramir prompted softly, fearing he knew what his father would say but still wishing it wasn’t it.

“And I wish it was you instead,” his father ended in a soft and flat tone, all his anger gone, now it only held cold grief and hurt. Faramir felt like arrows had been shot through his heart. He had always known that his father despised him but never before had he directly said he wished him dead though he had often feared it through the years.

Faramir looked his father in the eyes. “If your decision still stands that the outer borders shall be reclaimed I shall lead my men there,” Faramir’s voice was strong and sure, betraying none of his conflicting emotions.

“It stands,” the Steward said evenly, knowing fully well what this would mean.

“No! You’ll die!” Pippin protested and ran to Faramir, holding tight around his legs to prevent him from leaving. Not only had Pippin taken to like Faramir, especially since he had made sure he had been given a second breakfast when he had arrived to the capital but he also had a promise to keep. Faramir bent down so he was eye to eye with Pippin, a sad look in his eyes. Gandalf’s eyes held compassion and sadness while the Steward’s eyes were hard and unreadable.

“Then so be it. There is nothing I can do about it now. I have a duty to perform,” Faramir’s voice was soft and kind as he explained before he hugged the small Hobbit and whispered in his ear, making sure his father could not hear it. “If you see my brother again tell him that I shall await him in the life beyond this one and ask him not to blame himself; this time he could not have saved me.” With that Faramir rose despite Pippin’s protests and looked his father in the eye.

“I hope after this you will think kinder of me, father,” he said softly, the pain clear in his voice as he gently undid the vice grip Pippin desperately had made around his legs.

“That will depend on the manner of your return,” the Steward said evenly, not giving Faramir any hope and despite everything he had been through the hurt look that appeared in his eyes betrayed Faramir had still longed…had still hoped to hear just one kind word from his father’s lips.

With a nod of his head at his father Faramir walked out of the room and toward his doom, his steps determined but sad.

“No!” Pippin protested but didn’t even make it halfway across the room before the heavy wooden door closed behind Faramir.

“You have just condemned your youngest son to death and all of Middle Earth to ruin!” Gandalf said angrily.

“Gondor is already lost. We all are,” the Steward replied calmly with that mad gleam in his eyes which were very unnerving even to a Wizard.

Desperate to keep his promise to Boromir Pippin knelt before the Steward. “My Lord, let me wear your colours and serve you,” he began, hoping this would enable him to reach Faramir and if not, uphold the life oath he owed Boromir by fighting for the country Boromir loved so much.

“No, Pippin,” Gandalf protested but too late.

“I pledge myself to you and to Gondor,” the Hobbit continued, ignoring the Wizard.

The old Steward looked amused. “Such a small creature as yourself wishes to aid Gondor? Well, why not? The world is falling apart so why not add to it?”

Pippin looked directly at the Steward, ignoring his words. “Know though that even though I swore an oath to you and to Gondor I do this for Boromir who has shown me the kindness that can exist in a human’s heart…” his voice died away and silently he added, ‘despite all your obvious attempts to drive it out.’

“With your permission I will take my leave of you and take your new…squire with me for now,” Gandalf said and indicated the door to say he wished to be dismissed and talk privately with Pippin. The Steward nodded his consent while finishing eating as if nothing was amiss.

Gandalf’s eyes clearly showed his displeasure to Pippin’s puzzlement. He kept silent until they were walking through the city.

“What…” Pippin began but Gandalf interrupted him.

“You little fool!” Gandalf said angrily, his concern as so often before coming through in anger. “You are not a soldier!” Gandalf knew that Boromir had asked Pippin to look in on Faramir to make the Hobbit feel better but it was to him Boromir had turned when he had asked him to take care of the small Hobbit and see him safe, something which would prove very difficult now.

“I had a debt to pay to Boromir and this way I can be near Faramir as well,” Pippin protested, as if that was very logical.

“Not likely,” Gandalf said shortly as they rounded a corner and they saw the soldiers with Faramir in the lead beginning to ride through the city on their horses and out toward the outer borders and their own deaths.

Gandalf got up alongside Faramir’s horse, desperate to try and save the young man.

“Gandalf,” the young man acknowledged respectfully and Gandalf uselessly wished he had been in charge of Gondor and not his father for if he had been Gandalf was sure he would have listened to his advice and called for help when help was so obviously needed.

“Do not do this. You know I am right. This will only accomplish your death. Your father has no honour when he gives such an order as this.”

“That may be so but he is still my Steward and I still have my honour and thus I must do as he orders,” Faramir replied softly, his voice calm but his eyes showed fear underneath his bravado. He was a young man and he would do what he had to do but he didn’t wish to die…None of the men who rode out of the city wanted to die, yet they knew they would. All there was left was to hope they got as many Orcs with them as possible and to pray that their own demise would be as quick and painless as possible.

Gandalf sighed and stood still, letting the men ride off while Pippin looked lost and helplessly after them, saddened to realise that Gandalf had been right; he couldn’t protect Faramir at all.

“This is why I did not want you to pledge yourself to Gondor,” Gandalf said softly, now more afraid than ever that he would not be able to keep his promise to Boromir that he would make sure Pippin was safe. “The Steward can now also order you about like this and you will be honour bound to obey him.”

  
Pippin swallowed. He didn’t want to die and he didn’t know much about fighting, only what Boromir had taught him. Not enough to protect him against so many Orcs.

“I only tried to help,” Pippin said in a small voice.

Gandalf smiled sadly. “I know.”

With that they went back to the room assigned them in the Citadel, Minas Tirith’s palace which also contained the High Court from which Denethor, the steward, ruled Gondor. Gandalf helped Pippin look out through the window and they saw Faramir and his men ride toward their deaths, against impossible odds. Neither able to watch this massacre they turned away.

“I fear Captain Faramir’s attack may very well provoke the Orcs to attack the city sooner than we had thought and planned for. The Orcs will now know that they have already killed Gondor’s best warriors,” Gandalf mused out loud.

“We should call the others here,” Pippin suggested innocently, not knowing he was suggesting that they defy the ruler of Gondor and break laws and oaths, going against the Steward’s orders.

Gandalf was thoughtful. Night had broken and by now Faramir and his riders had to be dead, a thought that pained the Wizard greatly. Even if their attack had not moved the Orcs’ attack on the capital city ahead as Gandalf was sure it would he was sure that joining forces was the only hope for them. Alone Gondor would fall within days and that was if he took a positive outlook on things.

“Gondor has the Beacons of Gondor. There is a tower here. On top of it is a pile of wood. Ignite it and similar towers will be ignited when they see the light, all the way back to Rohan where Aragorn and our forces will see it,” Gandalf explained slowly, thoughtfully.

Pippin grinned. “I saw the tower when we came into town. I will crawl up there and ignite it,” he promised.

Their minds made up, Gandalf and Pippin went out of their rooms and toward the tower. “I will follow you there.” Soon they stood beneath the tower and Gandalf helped Pippin begin his climb.

“Be careful.”  
  


“I will,” the Hobbit promised and was soon lost to Gandalf in the darkness. Seeing that he seemed all right Gandalf walked back to the palace to see if he could persuade the Steward to see things his way or at least distract him from getting suspicious about Pippin’s whereabouts.

Gandalf had met Faramir before this tragic day and he had always cared a lot for the silent but intelligent and peace loving young man. It grieved him deeply to know that he was gone and the thought of saying this to Boromir…a part of him hoped that the older brother died before knowing this. He wasn’t sure how much more Boromir could take after his own painful death, resurrection, torture and finally escape. Gandalf sent a few more grieving thoughts Faramir’s way, knowing his father would send none. The old Steward had always been cold and hard toward his children. He had been demanding, most of all with Boromir but he had always seemed to hate Faramir, maybe because his calm ways reminded him of his deceased wife. However, these days there was a gleam of madness to the Steward’s eyes which had the Wizard very worried.

The night was dark and filled with light rain that formed like teardrops as Gandalf made his way back to the palace and the old Steward, awaiting the troops from Rohan that he would give Pippin time to summon. As he walked Gandalf cast a dark look at the heavens and found the weather fitting for this sad day as more names had been added to the long list of lives that had been lost in a war that Gandalf felt should never had been allowed to come to pass…and which could have been avoided if not the greed of man had meant that the evil and tempting One Ring hadn’t been destroyed all those years ago.


	30. Book 3: Chapter 5: In This Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Eowyn connect

###  Chapter 5: In This Moment

Scott stood on one of the palace balconies in the palace of Rohan. His gaze swept over the landscape and took in the sunset that bathed everything in a red/golden glow. The times when he could take a break from his strategy planning with the Council, as they had named the leaders who debated the future course of the war effects, were few and far between. Currently they had taken a break for dinner and would reassemble when the sun had set. Scott had sought solitude until then to try and find some sense of peace before they returned to talk war.

He looked below him on the streets and saw some young children playing a singing game that reminded him that he had read that children on Earth had played in the streets between corpses during The Plague that had swept through Europe, singing 'Ring Around The Rosy'. Children had an uncanny ability to play in and accept even the harshest of conditions as something that simply was. Though the dead had all been buried by now and the most severely wounded had died off, people wounded during the battle of Helm's Deep still died on a daily basis. Seeing burial fires and warriors in the streets had become everyday life for the children of Rohan in just a matter of months. Yet, despite it all, they were now laughing, smiling and playing, even though most of them had lost at least one parent or sibling. Their innocence and fight for normality in the midst of a war reminded Scott just what they were fighting for. In the middle of so much death and against so seemingly impossible odds he had almost forgotten what was at stake here.

As far as he knew this war wasn't like the wars of Earth. It wasn't fought because of difference in religion, politics or ideologies. To him it seemed like several races, several people, and several religions, were all fighting as one against something that was truly evil and truly not human, something none of Earth's military leaders could claim about their enemy. Even the soldiers who had fought for Nazi Germany in WW2 had been human, mislead and misinformed they had truly believed they were doing the right thing. During all of Earth's history even the cruellest of men seemed to believe his cruelty toward those different from himself was justified, simply because his cruelty was directed at someone who did not live the same way he did. Thinking about it Scott found another reason to admire Middle Earth. On Earth only the human race was advanced enough to hold countries yet here there were many very different races, you even had an Immortal race, yet they could live side by side and could stand together against a common enemy. On Earth there was just one race, humankind, and they could barely agree on anything at all.

Scott took a deep breath and leaned against the railing of the balcony. The sunset was beautiful, giving the human village and the palace a romantic glow. Thinking of romance made his thoughts turn to his friends. Rogue and Logan fought to hold their marriage together despite the bloody war and despite Rogue's change. He had talked to Gandalf before he had left for Gondor about Rogue, worried that even though the powers she had borrowed from Gandalf had lessened somewhat they were still there and still very powerful. With them her desire for power had also increased. Sometimes he wasn't sure if she could control it. He had seen her during dinner the day before Gandalf had left where she had been seated next to Gandalf, and the bare skin between her dress sleeve and glove had almost brushed against Gandalf. Only Logan's quick intervention had stopped it. Rogue had seemed truly horrified but Scott had become worried. Logan had admitted to him that her behaviour had been strange but he refused to believe she would try and drain Gandalf to gain more powers from him. Scott wasn't so sure. During his talk with Gandalf, the wizard had admitted that all magic was connected. Gandalf was a magician of the light while Sauron was of the dark. He could easily filter out Sauron's evil as it reached him but since Rogue now had some of Gandalf's magic she would now also be able to feel and sense the evil magic from Sauron and Gandalf had agreed with Scott that she might not be able to filter out his evil whispers as Gandalf had originally thought she would. Gandalf had also told him that he was almost 100% sure that the reason Rogue lost her borrowed powers so slowly, a lot slower than she should, was because Sauron's darkness worked to keep the powers within her so she thereby could still hear Sauron's whispers and be tempted to aid his cause.

Gandalf leaving had removed the immediate temptation from Rogue but the problem remained. He had talked to Rogue about it and she admitted that someone might be trying to influence her. So far she had been able to resist its tempting offers but she didn't know for how long she could keep doing it. She had made Scott promise that he would remind Logan of the oath he had given her if her husband would hesitate. She would rather die than become an instrument of evil.

Scott had also tried to speak to Ororo but although she admitted she loved Legolas she also said it was best they were apart because if he loved her back it could kill him when she returned to Earth. Scott had a feeling there was more to it than this; he felt she was hiding something from him. He had known Ororo even longer than Jean and she was his closest friend but it was also because of this that he respected her decision to remain silent. He didn't believe that Aragorn's advice to Ororo was the best way to solve her and Legolas' situation but since he didn't know what Legolas felt and neither did he know much about Elves he respected her plea that he should not interfere. Currently there were a lot of pressing issues to solve so he couldn't have spared much attention to his friend's love life anyway but if she had wanted him to try he would have done so.

The sun had almost set when his thoughts fell on Jean. Though he still loved her it wasn't with the bright flame it had used to be. Distance and the fact that she was now his enemy, again, had done theirs to try and strangle his love for his wife. He tried not to think too much about Jean and Phoenix because it was such an emotionally complicated matter that he barely knew what to feel or do. Phoenix was his enemy and to save all of Middle Earth he might have to kill her but she was also Jean, his wife whom he, despite it all, still loved. It was a conflict that was tearing him apart.

“Is something troubling you?” Eowyn's kind voice reached him and he turned and saw that she had joined him on the balcony.

“Only the usual,” he said, his mood instantly lifting at seeing her and she smiled at him, which instinctively made him smile back. He purposely chose not to analyze what he felt for the young princess but he couldn't deny that he had grown very fond of her. He just didn't dare analyze if that fondness was because he saw her as a friend, comrade, sister…or potential lover.

“You have a beautiful country, princess,” Scott said softly, his eyes on the sunset, forcing his attention away from her and on to a safer subject.

She leaned on the railing and looked out, smiling at the beauty of her nation. “Thank you. I have always thought so.”

A comfortable silence settled between them until Scott turned to her and broke it.

“How are your Elven patients? Are we still losing some to emotional distress?”

Eowyn turned to him, her expression serious. “Ororo had some good ideas to help them recover and it has worked nicely. I think the ones alive at this time will survive.”

Scott nodded, relieved to hear that no more would die. There had been too much death already. “Good. We need all the men we can get for the coming battle.”

“Dying because a loved one has died…that has to be the ultimate show of love,” Eowyn said softly.

“I have heard tales before of people who have died because a loved family member or lover has died but I have never before seen it happen so often as I have here,” Scott admitted. It was a disquieting thought to him that people would die if they lost a lover. All his friends seemed to be in danger if that tendency proved to move to his friends as well. He didn't want to lose any of his friends but if he had to, to lose one friend was better than to lose all.

He could understand the agony that losing a beloved was. He had lost Jean to the temptation of darkness twice now and though he had got her back the first time things didn't look so promising now. Despite the pain he would feel of seeing her finally fall then in a way he had already lost her. Logically he knew Logan was right; Jean was no more, there was only the evil Phoenix who had tortured Boromir, a man who had fast become a friend, for days on end. Phoenix who killed and tortured without mercy. Even if he had lost Jean as Jean, a kind hearted and strong willed mutant doctor, he knew he would have carried on. He would have mourned her but he would have carried on. He had been orphaned when he was five years old. He was used to living alone, used to people leaving him by dying. He was used to fighting for everything in his life and he knew he would fight to carry on even after his love had died should it come to that but he had never been a quitter and he would fight till the end to prevent anymore people from dying.

Sensing the sadness in Scott's voice Eowyn changed the subject. “Do you have a view like this in your homeland?” she indicated the sunset and the glory of nature around her.

“My family lineage is from Canada so though I live in the United States by your way of tracing family I would be Canadian and in Canada…yes, we have beautiful views. Many places have been disrupted by human cities but there is still a lot of nature in Canada,” Scott explained, letting his admiration for the country which he had visited several times shine through.

“Why do you not live in your homeland? Why would you want to leave it?” Eowyn asked, truly puzzled. It was a rare thing in Middle Earth to leave your place of birth.

“I was orphaned and grew up in the United States so the choice was not mine.”

“But you like it there?” She prompted.

Scott considered this. Thanks to Xavier's money he lived very well now but he clearly recalled how it was to live in the public orphanages. The state didn't give much money to public institutions and it hadn't been pleasant to put it mildly. He knew that hidden away from the rich neighbourhood of Xavier's mansion people lived on the streets and kids died of hunger. Compared to most nations the US was a glorious country, no doubt about it, but as a mutant he had seen the darker side of the American slogans of freedom and tolerance. Rogue had told him that Magneto had claimed there was no land of tolerance, not even America and Scott had to admit that he was right. The world at large was not a tolerant place. The days of the Civil Rights movement of the 60's had died out and now discrimination based on genes and sexuality or other things like nationality and religion was something the majority, and often also the state, approved of and accepted. He had got his share of discrimination but some of the mutants at Xavier's school were parts of other minority groups besides being mutants like religious, racial or sexual minorities and they had it even worse.

“I love the United States. It is my country now and it's a great nation. It has the potential to become the greatest nation in the world,” Scott said slowly, thoughtfully, letting his love for his nation shine through. “However, there are a lot of biases that needs to be dealt with first before it can truly live up to its proclaimed status of the greatest nation of tolerance and freedom in the world.”

“And you fight for equal rights for your people?” Eowyn asked insightfully. She could not understand why anyone would discriminate against an entire group of people, but fear and ignorance would account for much of it she assumed. She knew that though the biases weren't as strongly expressed as in Scott's world Middle Earth had its own share of biases. Small but still there like for example a way of thinking that ones own country was better than any others and thus, though mixed marriages was allowed and did occur, it wasn't normal and wasn't encouraged. If Aragorn married the Elven Arwen and placed her as Queen of a human kingdom as he wished to do then that should help a lot in removing that bias. However, the most notable discrimination in Middle Earth was the lack of equality between the sexes. She had learned from Ororo and Rogue that in many of the countries of Earth there was equality or something close to it, between the sexes, something she really wished she could get in Middle Earth as well. She was more than a machine to give birth to baby boys. She could fight as well as any man and had she been a man she would have been a general by now, she was sure of this.

“I fight for all minorities. We humans are imperfect so all we create will be imperfect as well but we can make things a lot better than what they are now,” he smiled as he spoke and Eowyn looked questionable at him. “Sorry. My friend Kurt is studying to become a priest and he always tells me when I'm frustrated about some injustice in the world to remember that humans are fallible and thus all they create will be as well. Only God is perfect but with love in their hearts humans can create a world where everyone can live in peace,” Scott explained before he added, “I was reminded of him and his beliefs.”

“Your God is simply called God?” Eowyn asked, interested.

“Yes though He, She or It, however people address their divine entity, has been given other names as well but in general it's the same concept; one supreme being who has made rules to help mankind live in peace with each other. There are minority groups of people who believe in several deities in my country which was common in the past but it’s not as common today. Though we have immigrant groups who have a strong belief in several deities but the religion is not native to my country.” She nodded understanding. “I understand you don't all have the same religion?” Scott inquired, curious, having heard dying soldiers cry different names, making him assume it was different deities.

“No. There are many religions in Middle Earth though they share the same concept like you told me of yours. However we have never fought over religion like Ororo told me your people has. People can worship here as they please as long as it does not hurt someone else.”

“A good viewpoint,” Scott agreed. He was to ask something else when Eowyn gave a surprised gasp and worried Scott followed her gaze, one hand instinctively having gone to his glasses while the other was ready to draw the princess behind him to shield her from the unknown danger. He frowned confused when he saw that what had startled her was a ring of fire that was being lit around the mountain far away, moving toward them.

“It is the Beacons of Gondor; a call for assistance from Gondor,” Eowyn explained. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with worry. “They need our help.”

“Commander Scott, Princess Eowyn! Aragorn requests that you assemble in the main hall as soon as possible,” a guard who had appeared behind them said to them, having been sent to get them with such haste that he had run through the palace to find them and was now taking deep breaths to try and calm down again.

“We will be right there,” Scott replied, his voice betraying his worry. Had Mordor attacked? Were they too late?

Without wasting any time Eowyn and Scott hurried through the palace and toward the main hall, the children's singing from below the balcony becoming a sharp contrast to the severity of the situation.

* * *

“We cannot delay. We must send all our forces to the capital city of Minas Tirith **now** ,” Boromir insisted, his words betraying his strong concern for his country. He had risen as he had been granted the word by Aragorn who controlled the meeting. Around the large wooden table in the main hall sat all the people of the Council and some who weren't members. Due to Gandalf and Pippin's absence the room counted less people than it otherwise would have. Around the table sat King Theoden, Eomer, Gimli, Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn, Boromir, Eowyn, Scott, Ororo, Logan, Rogue and a few officers from Rohan’s army.

“We do not yet have all our forces gathered here in the capital. Rohan's army is still coming together from all over the country,” Eomer warned as Boromir sat down again.

“I have more Elven warriors coming from the Golden Wood. They should be here within a few days,” Haldir spoke up, having just a few hours before received a courier telling him that Rohan's border scouts had spotted Elves wearing the colours of the Golden Wood moving toward the capital.

“My father, Lord Elrond, will not send any warriors?” Aragorn asked his old friend, having not had time to question Haldir further about the message he had gotten. As Haldir was the commander of the Elven forces the message had been for his eyes alone and Aragorn respected his friend's status so he had not tried to get this information out of the courier or anyone else even though he badly wanted to get an answer. He knew that Elrond was against mixing Elven affairs with mortal affairs, claiming mortals made their own mistakes and had to learn to correct them on their own as well. Though Aragorn agreed with his adoptive father on this he still felt there should be exceptions to that rule. Elrond's opinion that all humans were weak and easily given to temptation had given Aragorn many a fear growing up when he had realized that he was mortal and human, despite the fact that Elrond and all the other Elves treated him as an Elf and expected him to behave as such. It had taken him a long time to accept what and who he was since he was constantly caught between two worlds, not really belonging to either. Truth be told he hadn't really accepted his human inheritance before Boromir had died and asked him to guard his country. Aragorn had grown up in Rivendell and he felt that was his country. Though he would do his duty and though he cared for Gondor he would never love Her like Boromir did or like he himself loved Rivendell for he had barely ever sat foot in Gondor.

“In the convoy which was spotted there were no warriors wearing the colours of Elrond's House,” Haldir admitted, knowing Aragorn would see this as his father turning his back on him in his time of need. The normally stoic warrior permitted himself to smile slightly in sympathy for his friend. “Perhaps he is still considering how involved Rivendell should become in this war. Lord Elrond was after all the one to gather the Fellowship,” Haldir reminded him, trying to soften the blow. Aragorn had always tried so hard to live up to Elrond's expectations but some expectations he could never live up to because no matter what he did his upbringing could not change the fact that he was human and mortal. Haldir had at first been wary of this human Elf but he had quickly come to take a liking to the quiet human who thought and moved with the grace of an Elf. Unlike his father who only wanted to see Aragorn as Elven, Haldir saw Aragorn as an abnormality, a human who was at heart an Elf, but he never considered this further for he had no need to. Aragorn had no attachment to Haldir's House and thus he didn't need to wonder what position and behaviour was desired from a human destined to be a human king but who had been raised as an Elven nobleman.

“We could send what forces we have now and send the rest as they arrive,” Ororo suggested, purposely avoiding Legolas's eyes as he politely turned to look at her when she spoke. The realization that he thought she cared so little for him that she had chosen to divorce him, for a lack of a better word, still pained her when it was far from the truth. Yet she could never tell him the truth and that hurt even worse.

“Let's stop talking and start killing some Orc!” Gimli insisted, as always ready for a fight.

“I have been working on the estimates of Mordor's army in contrast to our own based on the data that I've been given and the odds are stacked against us,” Scott said grimly. “Even with reinforcements from the Elves and with all of Rohan's forces gathered Mordor still outnumber us at least fifty to one.”

“So we either need more men or hope that all the Orcs we encounter fight really really badly,” Logan said darkly.

“There are no more forces to gather. Rohan's warriors should stay here and defend our own borders. Trying to save Gondor will be a battle we cannot win,” King Theoden said.

Logan rolled his eyes at him. “Just what **is** it with you and giving up?! You're making a nun seem feisty!”

“Logan!” Scott reproved though the others could not understand the insult as the word nun did not exist in their world. However, silently Scott agreed that Theoden tended to view things very negatively and he also tended to do his best to only defend his own borders and not anyone else's. In this situation, however, Scott had to admit that King Theoden had a point. Unless they could come up with something, sending aid to Gondor would only achieve their own demise.

“I will not let Gondor fall. I made a promise to a friend that I would never see Her fall,” Aragorn's soft but strong voice broke through the room, a small smile lighting up his serious expression as he recalled the oath Boromir had made him swear at what would have been his deathbed had Phoenix not intervened. Despite his distaste for the dangerous foreign woman Aragorn felt he owed her a debt of gratitude for letting him keep his friend among the living for a bit longer.

“Faramir!” Boromir's sudden cry was filled with horror and fear, his face having gone white as a sheet as if he saw something horrible no one else could see.

“What is the matter?” Eowyn asked concerned, beating everyone else who were about to ask the same thing.

Boromir made a visible effect to gather himself but terror and fear was still written on his face. “I…I felt something. My brother…he is in danger.” Boromir turned pleading eyes to Aragorn. “My King, let me travel to Gondor. I **must** see him safe. He is my brother; I cannot abandon him now.”

Aragorn's expression was sympathetic but he shook his head. “You leaving for Gondor at this time would not help anyone and would probably only result in your death. I will not have you risking your life for something that is hopeless.” Aragorn had come to accept that he might one day have to order friends to their deaths in order to save many others. However he would not let any man make such a sacrifice unless the loss of a friend and a warrior could be properly justified.

“But I cannot die,” Boromir protested.

“As far as we know and there is also the matter of your life-force and its connection to the One Ring. My decision stands,” Aragorn insisted. They stared at each other for a while; two strong wills locked in deadly combat before Boromir gave a short nod of his head and lowered his gaze.

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Have you always been telepathic around your brother or is this the first time?” Scott asked, getting a nasty suspicion.

“We have always shared a link. We sometimes shared dreams and feelings of danger for the other. For example when I was to leave to travel to Rivendell, Faramir warned me that my leaving made him uneasy as if something bad would happen to me. But though I never doubted my brother's warning I had received a dream quest to go there and felt honour bound to do so,” Boromir explained, trying to keep his sorrow and fear for his brother at bay. “However it has never been anything like this.”

“You said yourself that your life-force was connected to the Ring…Perhaps what you feel is a link to Phoenix. You might pick up on some images or feelings through her,” Scott thought out loud.

“That would mean Phoenix is near my brother in some way,” Boromir's voice was filled with dread and a shiver ran through him when he recalled his torture at the hands of the beautiful but deadly woman. He would not wish that on anyone, least of all his beloved brother.

“Yes,” Scott agreed grimly, not liking it either. Silence fell over the room until Aragorn broke it.

“The allied forces of Rohan and the Golden Wood will leave for Gondor in three days,” he ordered, taking a decision as he knew they had to act fast. “You all know your appointed tasks. Prepare to break camp!”

Everyone was about to leave when a guard showed a hooded figure into the hall. He wore the long regal robes of an Elf of high status. The colours of his House were sewed into his clothes as it was customary for Elves of high rank and they were recognized at once by Aragorn, Haldir and Legolas who all rose to show their respect. Puzzled the other humans followed their lead and rose as well.

*My lord, you honour us with your presence,* Aragorn said formally in Rivendell Elfish, trying to contain his joy.

The visitor gave a small nod of his head in reply before he drew back his hood to reveal his face. Surprise and shock was clearly written on the human faces around the table.

*Estel, it pleases me to see you well,* Lord Elrond replied warmly in the same language before his eyes fell on Legolas. The Elven prince gave him a small respectful nod of his head which Elrond returned. *Prince Legolas, it is always a pleasure to see you.* His eyes found Haldir and the commander bowed his head slightly in respectful greeting.

*Lord Elrond of Rivendell,* he said formally.

*Commander. I was surprised to see the Elves of the Golden Wood had chosen to fight for mankind though I see now that as always Galadriel saw further than I.*

Haldir gave a nod in acceptance to these words.

“Could we maybe continue this in English or whatever you call the language we mortals speak so anyone here who's not a descendent of Spock could follow this conversation?” Logan complained, having grown tired of understanding nothing. His words broke the formality of the Elves' greeting as his fellow X-men tried not to smile too widely at his words. While the Elves and other humans did not understand his reference they got his meaning.

Elrond turned to address the entire table, continuing in the human tongue. “Gentlemen and gentlewomen. I have come to offer you a solution to your problem.”

“About the lack of forces to combat Mordor's army?” Eomer asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Elaborate,” Boromir snapped, fear for his country and brother making his voice shaper and making him fall back into the role as leader that he had held before the war where he as Captain-General of Gondor had lead Gondor's army.

“I come to offer you two things. One is a solution to the problem of your lack of warriors…the other is a gift to my son to help him fulfil his destiny and become King of Gondor,” Elrond said and the whole room became animated again as hope returned to them, giving them a fighting chance of success where before there had been none.

“Please…Tell us all,” Aragorn asked of his father and Elrond did just that.


	31. Book 3: Chapter 6: Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New alliances are made

###  Chapter 6: Strange Bedfellows

If Lord Elrond’s arrival and manner in which he would provide the promised increase to their army had shocked and surprised the rulers of Middle Earth, it had blown the X-men away.

Elrond’s suggestion had been simple in its complexity; to increase their army they should summon help from dead human and elven warriors. As the destined King of Gondor Aragorn would be able to summon the Dead Men of Dunharrow by showing the royal sword which Elrond had had re-forged and which had been the gift he wanted to offer his adopted son. These dead men had broken their oath to their king when they had been living and because of this they had been denied eternal rest until they uphold their promise to aid the King of Gondor. Aragorn should therefore, in theory at least, be able to order them to help them defend Minas Tirith. It would take some time to get these dead warriors so the warriors of Rohan and the Golden Wood would leave for Gondor in three days and should hold the city safe until reinforcements arrived.

While Aragorn left to summon the dead humans with Legolas and Scott, Logan, Rogue and Boromir would travel to the Dead Marshes and summon the dead Elves and men who had been slain there. Elrond himself would leave to create an army of Elven soldiers from Rivendell and Mirkwood to stand ready to defend the Elven lands and guard the secrets it held; if necessary take them with them to their deaths instead of giving them to Sauron.

Coming from a world without magic, for the X-men to accept powers like Gandalf’s were hard but to take a suggestion about raising the dead seriously had been a lot harder. Logan had of course been the most verbal about his disbelief but if this could be done Scott agreed that it was a good idea. The new warriors were already dead; how more perfect an army could you get?

“I do not like the idea of us splitting up,” Ororo admitted as Scott, Logan, Rogue and herself walked together through Edoras in preparation to see Logan, Rogue and Boromir off on their journey, interrupting Scott’s thoughts. Logan, Rogue and Boromir had the longest way to travel so they would leave as soon as possible.

“I do not like it either but we have no choice. The Oath-Breakers that Aragorn needs to summon are apparently locked up inside a mountain so I need to come to blast us in. Boromir needs Rogue’s powers to help him find the dead Elves and like Legolas going with Aragorn and me Logan will help Rogue and Boromir on their way with tracking and being able to see and smell any enemy forces before they get critically close,” Scott explained, knowing Ororo already knew this but he could see that his friend was worried. A little in front of them Logan and Rogue walked side by side until they stopped so that Scott and Ororo could catch up with them so they could talk while walking towards the horses that had been provided for them and Boromir.

“Raising the dead,” Logan snorted disbelieving, having not been convinced by the inhabitants of Middle Earth’s beliefs. “If this was back home I’d say our regal lord Elf had had a little too much weed in his youth.”

As he had hoped his three friends smiled a little in reply to his comment, their spirits lifting in the face of his sarcastic form of humour.

“I find it hard to believe myself but we have seen people come back from the dead so raising the dead may not be so far out in this world after all,” Scott said and cast a look at where Boromir was having a tearful farewell with Merry. It was clear for all to see that the thought of leaving the last of his Little Ones was breaking his heart. Merry was openly crying while the proud warrior did his best to hide how glassy his eyes had become.

“I would feel better if Haldir was going with us,” Rogue said, afraid she might disappoint all the expectations people seemed to have in her and her ability to use Gandalf’s white magic to convince the Elves that they were on the side of righteousness in this combat and thus deserved their help.

“Aragorn needs to be the one who seeks out the Oath-breakers so Haldir needs to stay and lead the Elves into battle for Minas Tirith,” Ororo explained and Rogue nodded understanding though she still looked doubtful. Her control over her borrowed powers was slipping more from day to day. She hadn’t admitted it to anyone, barely even to herself, but it was now becoming a harder and harder battle for her to lock out Sauron’s evil whispers.

“I know but don’t we need an Elf to speak with the dead Elven warriors for them to believe us and come with us? I mean Elves can be so…” Rogue searched for a suitable word.

“Arrogant?” Logan supplied with a grin and she mock hit him on the arm, having him laugh and plant a soft kiss to the top of her head as he drew her toward him, holding her close with an arm around her waist.

“I was trying to be diplomatic.”

“But come on; admit it. We all think it. They live forever. Of course they’ll see us all as children and act arrogantly toward us,” Logan said, only halfway joking.

“You might live forever,” Ororo reminded him and suddenly she wondered if her unborn child would inherit its father’s immortality. If so, how in the world could she explain that away? An Immortal being on Earth would be locked away and studied for medical or military purposes. The very thought made her shiver and Scott cast her a concerned look. Well, there was still a very good chance she might not make it out of Middle Earth alive so she had to focus on one thing at a time. For now she had been asked to help prepare the army to depart for Gondor, together with Eomer and Gimli and with only three days in which to do so there was a lot to be done. Hopefully the large amount of work would keep her mind off Legolas and the pain of seeing him so sad, knowing she was to blame for it.

“Which just proves his point; Immortals are arrogant,” Scott teased and they all laughed, needing the relief of laughter in this tense time. They had reached the two horses and the two Rohirrim warriors who had held the horses helped Logan and Rogue up on a horse each.

While Ororo said farewell to Rogue Scott looked seriously up at Logan. “I won’t ask you to take care of them since I know you will but I will ask you to be watchful around Rogue. I know you don’t want to see it but she knows she could be a danger to this mission if Sauron gets a hold of her,” Scott warned, his voice low and serious.

Logan nodded grimly. He had tried to deny it but he couldn't do so any longer. As his beloved wife, as Rogue, she would never even harm a fly. But if Sauron got a hold of her...He wished he could blame Gandalf for this so he had someone to blame but the only one he could really blame was Sauron and he was unfortunately not around to feel the heat of Logan’s wrath but Logan planned to change that soon so he could have his revenge.

“I know.”

Scott nodded in reply before he shook hands with Logan, on purpose shaking his hand as Middle Earth’s warriors did; with a hand around the wrist.

“I’ll see you in Minas Tirith soon,” Logan said to Scott before he let Ororo take Scott’s place.

Scott went to Rogue and gave her an encouraging smile. He patted her right hand which lay on the horse’s rains and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll do fine. I have faith in you.”

She avoided his eyes. “I’m not sure you should,” she mumbled.

“Rogue,” his intense tone of voice made her meet his shaded gaze. “I will always have faith in you but you know me…I’m a Boy Scout at heart. I won’t deny that I have thought about you falling and have warned Logan about this but me being prepared doesn’t change the fact that I do have faith in you.”

“Thank you,” she said, moved and happy by his words. She liked that he had faith in her but still had prepared for the worst. It made her feel better and more secure knowing that should she fail at least she wouldn’t bring down anyone else in her fall. She smiled warmly and he reached up and held her on the lower parts of her arms so that he could draw her a little towards himself so he could kiss the top of her head.

“Safe journey.”

She drew back and suddenly had a flash of melancholy as if she would never see him again. On impulse she gave him a hug before she sat up straight again.

“Take care of yourself, Scott.”

Logan rode alongside her and they began to move a little away. “You too,” Scott said after her before he noticed that Boromir had stopped his horse right next to him.

Worry and concern for his brother and his Little Ones gave Boromir a haunted and older look. Scott offered his hand to him which Boromir took, holding it around the wrist.

“I will take care of Merry for you as well as I can and if I should see your brother before you arrive at Minas Tirith I shall do my best to see him safe as well,” Scott promised solemnly and Boromir smiled in gratitude.

“Thank you, my friend.” They shook hands before Boromir withdrew his hand and began to slowly ride after Rogue and Logan. He turned around and smiled with a half teasing and half serious look in his eyes at Scott. “Take care of my King for me. He has a tendency to rush into battles head first.”

Scott laughed and nodded in reply. “I will.”

Boromir nodded at him before his eyes found Merry and he smiled at the small Hobbit and waved at him, making the Hobbit wave back while he fought his tears. Alone without Pippin and Boromir for the first time, Merry suddenly felt alone and lost until Scott with an easy smile and a hand on his shoulder made him feel a bit better as he watched Boromir ride off together with Rogue and Logan.

Ororo went to stand on Scott's other side as she waved farewell to her friends and she shared a meaningful look with Scott. Without any of them saying as much they all had a fear that this would be the last time they would all be together…maybe the last time they would all stand side by side. Separated by Sauron’s tempting evil or death they all knew that their fear of losing one another was very real and this was also why Ororo and Scott permitted themselves the time to stand still outside Rohan’s royal stables and watch Rogue, Logan and Boromir fade into the distance. They watched them until they disappeared from view, leaving them with a fear that this would be the last image of their friends that they would ever get.

* * *

Eowyn was standing around in the soon to be disbanded camp and looked at Scott. He possessed so many qualities that she admired but what she liked most about the shaded stranger was that he was a great leader yet also a kind hearted man. He listened to her and took her word as seriously as he would any man’s. She had never before found a man who could both be a great leader and warrior and who had the qualities to become a wonderful husband as well. She knew that if she were to marry Scott then he would let her rule with him and not simply keep her around as a trophy of beauty and royal lineage to show off to his friends and enemies as a sign of his power.

“Be careful where your thoughts take you, dear sister,” a kind voice spoke behind her and she sprung around with surprise and joy written on her face to give her brother a quick embrace. So much had happened that she hadn’t had as much time to spend with her brother as she would have liked.

Growing up Eomer had been her constant defender and supporter and he had been the one who had taught her how to fight. He had said that if he were not around he would feel better if she knew some basic survival and fighting skills. Before Scott had showed up she had thought Eomer was the only man who could be a strong warrior and still be kind and respectful to her, disregarding the ruling laws and opinions on women’s place in society. Because of this she had always, and still did, looked up to her brother and every suitor who had been introduced to her she had measured up against her brother. If he wasn’t as strong, clever, gallant and kind as Eomer she would not even consider marrying him despite her uncle’s wishes. Until she had met Scott no man had ever been able to measure up to Eomer.

“My thoughts may travel where they please. No one but me will ever know where they went,” she teased though grew sober when she saw her brother’s serious expression.

“Be careful with this warrior leader, Scott. Like so many good leaders his love for his people as well as his sense of duty will always be greater than any affection to any one person he may have,” Eomer warned kindly and stroked her cheek.

She was set to protest but saw the wisdom in his words. One of Eomer’s generals called to get his attention and he left to supervise the army’s move, going over to Ororo, Gimli and Haldir on the way to hear how many soldiers, weapons and supplies they currently had and when they would be able to leave. Aragorn’s three days deadline would be up the coming morning and everyone was busy. Eowyn went to go tend to her own duties, which was making sure all the Elves and men who could leave for battle after they had been wounded did so and then made sure the few Elves and the humans who were still in sickbed would be taken care of when the army moved on.

On her way across camp to tell Haldir of the number of Elves who she had released for duty and the few who would remain behind to recover her uncle stopped her.

“Eowyn, I wish you to remain here at the palace,” the old king said seriously.

“But uncle…” she began to protest.

“No buts, my girl. Your brother and I both agree that the battle is too dangerous for you. If your brother and myself fall you are the only one left of the direct line of Rohan’s royalty. It will fall on you to protect our country.”

“I am honoured for this duty, uncle, but I can help you in the battle,” she insisted.

Theoden shook his head and pointed toward where Aragorn, Legolas and Scott were preparing to leave the camp. “We all have our duties and responsibilities to perform.” He paused for a moment before he went on. “When first I saw Aragorn I feared you might take a liking to him for he is a great king and man but I see now that it is the shaded stranger who threatens to steal your heart.”

Eowyn blushed. “We are but friends.”

Theoden’s expression softened but his voice was serious. “Then let it stay that way. Though as far as I know Scott does not rule a Kingdom he is still a King in his own right. His honour will not let him stay here with you as long as his people, the ones he calls mutants, have to fight for survival back in his own world. He has no sons…” he paused as Eowyn gave him a meaningful look and he added to avoid debating a subject they would never be able to agree on anyway, “or daughters to follow him. Do not place your heart in the hands of a man who will be unable to give his own in return.”

“Uncle…” she began but then stopped. He was right; she knew he was. Scott would choose to do the honourable thing. As the leader of his people he would be honour bound to return and fight for them if there was any possibility for them to return and he would be equally honour bound to forever search for a way to return home so that he could keep fighting for the rights of his people. If he would not he would not be Scott and not be the man she had come to care for.

Tears formed in her eyes as she realised the hopelessness of her situation. “Will I ever find happiness?” she asked him softly, with the same kind of pleading in her voice with which she as a little girl had asked him to please tell her that her parents were not dead and would be back tomorrow.

Theoden embraced her warmly before he drew back and wiped her tears away with his hand. “One day you will find a man who can be your knight, warrior and king all in one. A man who will treat you as his equal the way you want to be treated.” He stroked her cheek and she caught his hand and softly kissed it. “One day,” he promised.

She smiled bravely though she doubted if it was true. She had been alone for so long and it seemed that she would forever remain so. “One day,” she repeated softly.

He nodded before he left her to prepare for the army to move out. A determined look came to Eowyn’s face. She might not be able to get her heart’s wish and find love but she could help Rohan, the country of her birth and which she had always loved. Merry had approached her and had told her that like her he was being left behind because the others thought he was too small to fight. Merry wanted to fight, he wanted to find Pippin and Boromir soon and he wanted to help. She knew how it felt like to be treated unfairly, judged for something out of your control, and she would help him fight in the coming battle. So much was denied her but no one would deny her the opportunity to help fight for her people.

* * *

The trip to the Dead Marshes was long and tiring, seemingly longer in their minds since they all worried for the friends they had left behind. The weather had been cold and Rogue had been happy to be out of the dress she had borrowed for the few dinners she had attended in Edoras and back in pants, blouse and a warm coat.

On the 10th day of their journey they all knew that the Rohan and Elven army would very soon reach Gondor’s capital and time became of the essence. Rogue used her powers and could easily feel where the dead Elves and men were and led them there. Logan remembered Scott’s warning words about Rogue well and kept an eye on things, clearly recalling how she had almost touched Gandalf before he had left for Gondor. The first few days went all right but as time passed and Rogue had few distractions she became more and more obsessed with Boromir and his powers. She wanted to know how great they were and how he used them. Could he even be killed? She said that being immortal had to be wonderful with a wishful tone in her voice that made Logan frown. On the 6th day Rogue had had a moment of clarity and had admitted that Sauron’s evil whispers were growing louder and they were harder to resist. Her desire for power was rising. Logan had spoken with Boromir about the danger that he was forced to admit his beloved wife could become. Boromir understood better than anyone the temptation of Sauron’s whispers and had said that sadly when Sauron first got in ones blood, something dramatic had to happen to break his hold. For Boromir that had been his own death but Logan wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet. He would not loose his wife to some phantom like evil that wasn’t even from his own plane of existence!

They had just now entered the Dead Marshes and Logan was beginning to believe that he could get them all back from this trip unharmed. They all dismounted when they entered the grounds where so many Elven and human warriors rested and Rogue made sure to walk between the two men. Distracted by Boromir’s retelling of the battle of the Last Alliance between Elves and men in which these warriors had died, Logan hadn’t given Rogue’s move much thought. Seeing both men were distracted Rogue acted quicker than Logan could respond to as she had pulled off her glove and placed her right hand on Boromir’s cheek in what resembled an agonising replay of a Vulcan mindmeld. Boromir let out a wordless cry of pain as Rogue began to suck out his powers and his life force, forcing him to his knees before her. An unholy red flame of fury burned in her eyes, its intense hate seeming to burn Boromir’s soul when he locked eyes with Rogue.

“What are you doing? Stop!” Logan yelled and ran to them, fighting to get Rogue separated from Boromir.

“Stay away,” she bellowed and swung at him with her free hand, knocking him off his feet with a force that tasted of dark magic. She smiled evilly as Logan looked momentarily stunned up at her. “It is working. His powers are now my own. I will be the most powerful being in the universe!”

Fighting down the sadness and despair that seeing his wife act so cruelly brought on, her eyes flaming red, Logan jumped back up on his feet.

“Not if I’ve anything to say about it; you’re not! You should come out and fight for real instead of hiding behind others all the time, Sauron!” Logan sneered and popped his claws, not really sure how to separate Rogue from Boromir without harming her.

Suddenly Rogue let out a scream of agony and collapsed to the ground unconscious. Boromir looked at her in surprise, thankful that the pain had ended.

“Did you…?” Logan began as he withdrew his claws and kneeled beside Rogue. Boromir shook his head as he got to his feet. Through weakened he could already feel his strength returning.

“No. I am unsure about what happened. She seemed to be winning,” Boromir admitted.

Logan gathered Rogue in his arms, careful not to touch her skin. He managed to put her fallen glove back on without incident. Rogue moaned and came around in Logan’s embrace. He smiled as he saw that her eyes were back to normal.

She smiled weakly at him. “Logan,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and love and he smiled back.

“Halloo, darlin’. You seem to have been taking a small nap there,” he said gently.

“What happened?” She frowned. Her memory was a bit fuzzy.

“You tried to claim my powers for yourself,” Boromir said matter of fact as he knelt in front of the couple, his eyes sympathetic to what she was going through. Seeing her sadness and horror at this he added, “but you stopped when you could have won. Maybe you controlled it.”

“No,” Rogue shook her head as memory returned to her. “I fully intended to suck you dry; kill you and steal your powers.” She lifted her head and looked at him, filled with shame and regret. “I did not stop; I couldn’t.”

“Then what happened?” Logan asked for both Boromir and himself.

“Boromir’s power of invulnerability is linked to the fact that essentially he is dead. To gain his powers one cannot be alive. I began to absorb his coldness; his very death. I think self preservation made me let go,” she admitted, wishing Boromir’s answer had indeed been the right one.

“At least now Sauron won’t be tempted to have a go at Boromir again,” Logan said grimly.

“You mean **I** won’t be tempted,” Rogue correctly him sadly, her eyes for her husband alone. “But I could still go for your powers,” she added sadly, her voice now pleading with him. “Please…do not let me hurt you. Promise me that.”

Should he break his oath to protect her and take care of her just to save himself? How could he ever agree to that? Still, he could see how much this meant to her so he forced a smile and said, “I promise I won’t let you hurt me.” _If you did it wouldn’t hurt me as much as living without you, knowing I had killed you would_ , Logan added sadly, grimly.

The sober mood was broken when a ghostly image of an Elven warrior appeared before them, rising from the ground just a few feet before them. Startled Logan pulled Rogue to her feet and instinctually eased her behind himself. Gently though persistently Rogue went to stand beside him instead, ready to use the magic she still had left in case it got necessary.

Despite the danger of having these powers she had to admit that she loved to have an active power and feel like she could really make a difference. Everyone’s attention was at the ghostly Elf but only Boromir stood tall and didn’t go for his weapons while Logan had popped his claws just in case. The Elf looked as regal as ever, his beauty calm and mature and he reminded Logan of Elrond. His armour was elaborate and fine and he seemed to have been an Elf of high status. If he hadn’t been transparent none would have been able to tell that he was dead.

“What business do thee have in the Dead Marshes?” The Elf asked of them.

Boromir looked behind him at Rogue and Logan. Logan made a ‘go on’ motion at him.

“You better take this one. With my tact we’ll end up being the main dish at a dead army’s buffet,” Logan grunted and Boromir half smiled, not recognizing all the words but got the meaning before he turned back to face the ghostly Elf and his expression sobered.

“We come in peace and apologise for having disturbed your rest, noble warrior,” Boromir said formally, bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect.

The Elf nodded slightly in reply. “Thy apology is accepted yet I ask again; what is thy business here?” The Elf looked at Rogue and Logan. “The female has the powers of a great wizard yet her white magic is tainted with darkness.” This said he seemed to dismiss them as unimportant for now. The Elf gave Boromir a piercing look instead. “You are not like your companions…Boromir.”

Boromir gave him a look of surprise that he knew his name. “No.”

“You are neither dead nor alive and all the dead know each other,” the Elf stated and Boromir couldn’t help but flinch. It wasn’t easy to live with the fact that if you reached your goal you would die.

“We have travelled far to seek thy help. Middle-Earth needs thee now more than ever.”

“We have served our time and done our duty and we have done it well. Do we not deserve our rest?”

“You do yet I ask thee to consider that the living who are under attack now are thy descendants. They may even be thy siblings…thy lover,” Boromir said, knowing he was playing dirty but time was of the essence.

The Elf grew thoughtful, a pained yet soft and wishful look on his face as he remembered the sweet love he had had so many years ago. “Yes, my lover may indeed still live for I asked that I went into death alone; I wished life for my lover and not the coldness of death. He was still young, only a few thousand years and should see more of life before death claimed him.” For a moment the Elf got lost in bittersweet memories. “He wished to join me in death as it is our custom between couples whose love is forever but because of the request I had made of him he fought the pain.”

“Then I ask,” Boromir paused for a moment before he sank to one knee before the ghostly Elf. “No, I plea with thee. Call the dead warriors of the Dead Marshes whose spirits still linger here together. Come with us to the sight of battle. Save thy lover, save thy descendants. Thee fought for freedom and thee died for it. Do not let the shadow thee prevented from falling over Middle Earth so many years ago fall now instead. Let not thy death have been in vain.”

The Elf looked from the kneeling warrior to where Logan and Rogue still stood, battle ready but none threatening. Boromir, Rogue and Logan held their breath as the Elf considered. It felt like days to them but was only seconds before the Elf gave his reply, “I shall fight for thee, Boromir of Gondor…We shall all fight for thee…and for Middle Earth!”

In that instant ghostly figures rose from the ground all over like mist, elegant and beautiful, until one of the largest armies Logan had ever seen stood before them. Logan smiled widely as Boromir got back on his feet.

“Now we’re talking,” Logan said satisfied even though the fact that these were all dead people still rubbed him the wrong way. “Now, let’s go kick some Orc butt!”

The Elf Boromir had spoken to seemed to be the Elf of the highest rank among the dead and he floated a foot or two above the ground next to Boromir.

“I am aware that I have been dead for many years yet I was not aware that speech, manner and powers had changed **this** much,” the Elf indicated Logan and Rogue, their mutant powers, way of speaking and dressing, though Middle Earth in style Rogue was dressed in male clothes not to mention the fact that she was a woman. A female warrior and wizard as well had been unheard of in his times.

Boromir smiled. “It has not, kind Sir. These are visitors from a place far from here…They are also my friends.”

“Anyone who fight for Middle Earth is a warrior worthy of my respect,” the Elf said. “I shall therefore endeavour to remember that they are foreigners and respect their ways while we travel toward Gondor.”

Boromir raised an eyebrow at him. “Thee can read my thoughts?”

  
“All dead who have not left these lands share all knowledge,” the Elf said simply.

“I can neither read thy thoughts nor do I share thy knowledge,” Boromir admitted.

“Mayhap thee only share certain aspects of death. Thee are, obviously, still attached to life.”

Boromir nodded grimly, hearing the unspoken ‘for now’ at the end of that sentence as clearly as if it had been shouted at him.

As the ghostly army moved toward Gondor’s capital Boromir, Rogue and Logan weren’t without worries. Boromir worried for his brother and the words the Elf had spoken about him being dead. It made him feel out of place and threatened to make him depressed if he hadn’t made a visible effect to focus on something else. Luckily Logan seemed to know this and they spent a great deal of time talking together with Rogue.

Rogue on the other hand was afraid that she would lose control and hurt Logan and sought comfort in their conversion to drive her dark thoughts away. Logan had a similar concern and that combined with the unnerving feeling he got from the ghosts made him wish to forget what was happening and what was about to happen in the light of their conversations. As old soldiers Logan and Boromir knew well that having a great army was not the same as having victory. They were going into battle and casualties were unavoidable and they had to face the fact that one of those casualties could be someone they cared for.

* * *

Though Scott liked the idea of an army of the dead from a strategic standpoint he had to admit that the idea did take some getting used to. However, in the light of all the lives that could be saved his uneasiness was a small price to pay.

The trip to the mountain that contained the Oath-Breakers was shorter than Scott had thought and it felt even shorter thanks to Aragorn’s lifted spirits. Though it was clear that he felt the burden of Kingship heavier than ever as he rode with the re-forged sword by his side the fact that his adopted father had come to his aid and further than that, told him that Arwen was waiting for him had made all clouds disappear from his mind. Elrond had even said that he’d contribute warriors to the army that would help defend Minas Tirith. It would take Elrond some time to gather the Rivendell Elves but he would do so and if the opportunity provided itself, meaning if the Orc attack on the Elven lands were not heavy he would lead them himself in battle for Gondor.

Riding through the narrow pass in the mountainside that would take them to their destination Scott rode between Legolas and Aragorn. Unlike Aragorn Legolas did not seem in lighter mood; on the contrary. His skin was ghostly pale and he held himself up as if by sheer willpower. It didn’t escape Scott’s attention that Aragorn cast worried looks at his friend and tried to drag him into polite conversation but Legolas rarely replied with more than a few words.

On the third day Scott had been just about ready to directly ask the regal Elf if he was ill when Aragorn had interrupted by proclaiming that they had arrived. Scott had opened the mountain by using his mutant powers. His display of so much force had left Aragorn and Legolas feeling awed, as they had never seen a human able to do anything like that.

It must only had taken a few minutes but Aragorn’s conversation with the ghostly and sickly looking dead men had seemed like forever to Scott and he was sure the sight of all those ghosts closing in on Legolas, Aragorn and himself would revisit him in his nightmares. However, to his relief and joy the ghosts had agreed to help Aragorn in return for him setting them free and allowing them to pass over to the other side.

Riding toward Minas Tirith Scott hoped they would reach the city at the same time as the Rohan and Elven army did because it would be hard for them to hold the city on their own. In their haste and concern Scott had no more time to worry about Legolas’ health but instead his thoughts went to Ororo, Logan and Rogue. He hoped they were all right and that he would soon see them again. A part of him hoped that Phoenix would join in the coming battle so that he could face the nightmare of her once and for all while another part hoped he would somehow, miraculously, avoid her during the entire war. An unrealistic hope, that much he knew, yet he could not forget that every time he dreamt of Phoenix he saw her killing him.

As the three warriors continued towards Minas Tirith, all three men wore serious and brooding expressions, lost in worried thoughts about the future and as well as the bloody and possibly deadly battle they were about to engage in.


	32. Book 3: Chapter 7: The Battle For Minas Tirith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins and Scott and Phoenix finally talk

###  Chapter 7: The Battle For Minas Tirith

It was hard for Ororo to keep her mind on the upcoming battle for Gondor’s capital of Minas Tirith in the face of her concern for her friends. Neither Scott nor Logan’s group had returned and time was running out. Elrond had not arrived either so he had to be occupied in his own lands. Sauron’s army had lined up and the battle was imminent. Eomer and Haldir were standing to the right of Minas Tirith with their armies with the Orc army directly in front of the city. Ororo could see that Sauron’s army counted gigantic elephant like beings as well as flying birdlike beings of great size with riders on both animals besides thousands of Orcs on foot. It was clear that if Scott and Logan’s groups did not return the city would be lost.

Before Helm’s Deep she had never been in a real battle and this was the first time she was involved in this kind of warfare. Middle Earth had turned the X-men from defenders into warriors, a title she did not care for. She was afraid the battle might harm her unborn child but if Sauron won this battle all would be lost anyhow.

Eomer shouted the last battle orders and his uncle and him got ready to lead the army into battle. Besides them rode Haldir, all dressed in goldlike armour and the sight of him and his elves sent a pang of longing and pain through Ororo when her thoughts went to Legolas. She had already been given her orders which were to fly over the army and try to take out or at least prevent the flying birdlike beings that some of the Orcs rode from attacking the army. She flew a little above the army, letting the wind and the freedom of flight try to take away some of her nervousness, fear and worry for what was to come.

When the battle did begin, after agonising moments of waiting, it took her by surprise. Suddenly the two opposing armies were moving. The Orc army began an attack on Minas Tirith which Eomer and Haldir went to intercept by attacking the Orcs from the right. She focused on the giant birds and their Orc riders, throwing lightning balls as she went. Whenever she could spare a moment she glazed down at the battling armies and threw lighting balls into the Orc army. A part of her was glad that she could take to flight. She was spared the confusion, stench and agony that were a part of a battle of this magnitude.

A flicker of movement below caught her attention and she saw Merry riding on a horse with another rider, his small form making him stick out. She could only think of one person who would go against King Theoden’s decision that the Hobbit should not be involved in the battle. It could only be the Princess Eowyn. As the battle raged on for what felt like forever Ororo tried to keep an eye out for Eowyn and Merry, throwing covering fire for them whenever she could. She managed to bring several of the birds and their riders down as well as one of the giant elephant beings with her mutant powers but the effort left her exhausted and she had gained more than a few cuts, though none were too severe.

She also managed to see Gimli a few times, his small form sticking out when he wasn’t crowded, and aided him whenever possible. On her next sweep of the battlefield she saw King Theoden fight against a darkly clothed figure that gave her shivers just by looking at him. Preoccupied with three of the flying beings that she in her mind had named overgrown birds, she threw a fireball near Eowyn to get her attention and when the princess looked up Ororo waved in her uncle’s general direction, glad that she wasn’t too far up not to be seen from the ground. Eowyn hurried in the indicated direction and for some time Ororo had only one thing in mind; trying to stay alive against three opponents. Finally, after having gotten an arrow stuck in her right shoulder that she tore out with a loud yell of pain, she managed to bring them down. Fighting exhaustion and blood loss her eyes found Eowyn and her uncle again and she saw that the darkly figure had been slain but so had King Theoden and the princess seemed to be in pain as she sat kneeling beside her uncle. Orcs were moving in on her and Ororo had a dark forbearing of everything being lost when suddenly in a flash of white light an army of nightmarish ghostly beings began to fight the Orcs. Ororo looked in the direction where the beings had come from and saw Aragorn, Legolas and Scott. She barely had time for a relieved smile before the battle again demanded her full attention. Time held no meaning as she fought to stay alive. At some point a second ghostly army joined the battle but this army held beings which had such an out of this world beauty that they reminded her of angels, especially the elves. She knew that Boromir, Logan and Rogue had now joined the battle and she even saw Boromir fighting. At one point she saw him get stabbed in the chest and was halfway on her way toward him in panic and fear before she remembered that he was immortal now and sure enough, he pulled the blade out and continued fighting. Knowing where his concerns lay she made a quick detour to shout to him where she had last seen Merry; he was guarding the wounded princess Eowyn and the body of her uncle. She hadn’t managed to locate Faramir or Pippin and hoped they were all right. When Legolas had joined the battle she had tried to keep tabs on him but the Elf was a far too quick warrior for her to do so. At one point she had seen him jump around on one of the giant elephant beings which he had ended up being able to bring down with his bow.

Finally, after what felt like forever during which she had felt several Elves die, each time worried one of them was Legolas, the battle seemed to calm down. Everything on the battlefield was a mess of confusion, dead and dying and there was blood everywhere. The stench of blood and death managed to reach her even though she was airborne. She searched for a familiar face, circling the battlefield with concern and worry in her eyes, both wanting and not wanting to find them because if they were dead she would rather not see their mutilated bodies. Her blood froze in her veins when she spotted Legolas on the battlefield. Blood was oozing from a wound in his stomach and his face was pale and pained.

“Legolas!” She drew an agonized breath yet the pain was not from her wounds but from her heart. She landed beside him and knelt beside him, taking his head in her lap. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and he looked worn, strained and tired. Ororo’s heart broke just looking at him. She tried to give him her full attention while still keeping an eye out for any danger. Though the battle had calmed down it wasn’t over and screams of the dying and the fighting were still heard over the battlefield.

“You came… nîn meleth…you came,” he whispered, his voice filled with love and joy as he tried to keep the pain from showing in his face. “I…I used my last strength fighting for my bond brother in this battle. I have nothing left to give yet I held on, hoping to see you one more time. I had to know that you were unharmed,” he added softly, his eyes and face showing the strain he had put on his weak body to be able to fight so well in the battle.

“Oh, Legolas. I am so sorry,” she felt tears stain her cheeks as she laid her hands over his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Do not grieve. This death will be easier for me to bear,” Legolas said softly and gently but firmly removed her bloodied hands from his stomach. She shook her head in denial.

“This is a light wound. You can heal.” Her eyes found his and there was fanatic insistence in her voice. “You must heal!”

“I do not wish to,” Legolas admitted and continued before she could speak. “You chose to block our marriage as is your right but my heart cannot let you go. I choose this death instead of withering away. I have lived long and my only regret is not being able to see Estel sit on the throne of Gondor.”

“Legolas…please don’t do this,” she cried, her hands grasping his right hand between them.

“Nîn meleth…my life or death is one thing you cannot control,” he said softly but firmly.

“Legolas,” the rest of what she wanted to say drowned in tears. The battle, the deaths, the realization that after all her sufferings she would still lose him came back to her with a vengeance.

“Shh…do not cry. I can take anything but your tears,” Legolas said softly and stroked her cheek, leaving a red trail of his own blood on her skin as he did so. “Nîn meleth… nîn meleth…my love.”

Ororo’s eyes found his in surprise. “Nîn meleth means my love?”  
  


Legolas nodded, the movement an effort for him. “Yes.”

Ororo’s voice was filled with wonder as she spoke again, “You…You loved me from the day we made love?”

“Before that but especially that night. I would not wed a woman I did not love,” Legolas confirmed.

Ororo gave a short hysterical laugh. All her suffering, all her sacrifices…it had all been for nothing. From the day they had made love he had bonded himself to her forever and her leaving him had not saved him but condemned him.

“Legolas,” she fought to get her tears and her turmoil emotions under control. “I love you. I have for a long time.”

“You requested our marriage be blocked,” Legolas reminded her, pain in his voice.

“I know,” Ororo admitted miserably. “I thought I was saving you.”

“I do not…understand,” Legolas admitted and his voice began to show the strain his wound was giving him.

Seeing this Ororo knew her time was running short. He had to heal himself now or it would be too late. She stroked his cheek lovingly, her tears falling on his face. There was no need to talk about her reasons…that she would have to go back to her own world. Nothing mattered; not even going home. Now all that mattered was that he lived and knew the truth.

“It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that I love you. I always will. Please…stay in this world with me. I will remain by your side. I would not leave you,” her voice broke down and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Please don’t die. I love you.”

“Ororo…” he began and his hand stroked her hair.

“No, please…You have to know,” she raised her head and tearstained eyes locked with his. “I’m pregnant with your baby.”

“Mine?” he said in wonder. He had always wished for a child and the miracle of life had always fascinated him. A child…a child with the woman he loved…his wife. He smiled widely in joy.

Ororo nodded and smiled a little; still worried for him. “Stay with me,” she pleaded and she smiled widely as he nodded.

“My heart has healed. Our marriage pledge still holds,” he said solemnly.

“You’re healing?” she asked in happiness and drew back to check it herself. Sure enough, the wound was no longer oozing blood.

“I love thee, wife of my heart,” Legolas whispered lovingly before he with a hand at the back of her neck drew her down into a loving and gentle kiss.

“I love you too. Always,” she whispered in joy as she drew back. The battlefield had for a moment disappeared and nothing existed but their happiness.

“Do not leave me again. If you stay let it be forever,” Legolas demanded, his eyes finding and holding hers. She nodded, knowing as an immortal forever might just truly be forever but she now knew that she would do anything to keep him safe.

“Forever,” she agreed and their lips met again.

For one brief moment in time there was no pain, no death, no sadness. There was no future to worry about and there were no obstacles. There was just this moment and their love.

* * *

The trip to Minas Tirith had been uneventful and Boromir, Logan and Rogue had found the handsome Elven commander to be an interesting companion as he spoke of how things had been thousands of years ago.

However, Logan had noticed with concern that Rogue had begun to become more and more obsessed in her talking about power and she had even once, presumably accidentally but Logan wasn’t so sure, touched the ghostly Elven commander with her naked hand only to find that she could not take any powers from him. Like with a ghost her hand had gone right through the elf.

Now that she had realized that she couldn’t take powers from Boromir or the ghostly elves and men her interest had been on Logan. In her moments of clarity she understood what was happening to her but like a drug addict she could not forsake the powers she now possessed.

Logan had a theory that if Rogue refused to accept the powers they would dissolve and she would no longer hear Sauron’s whispers but as it was she could not give up the power she now held. It was too tempting. She fought to keep the magical powers she now had, wanting to use it for good but Logan was sure that she couldn’t keep her powers without paying too high a price. Yet just like Boromir before his fall she could not see her own danger.

When they had reached Minas Tirith the battle had been explosive and nightmarish ghostly human fighters betrayed the fact that Scott and his group had already arrived. Not one for the chain of command if he could avoid it Logan let the Elven commander order the other ghosts around and with Rogue and Boromir he began to attack the Orcs. Rogue had to use her magical powers intensely to defend herself and her friends and as they fought on Logan noticed with worry that a red glow had entered her eyes and she was smiling, enjoying the killings of the Orcs. When they were no longer in immediate danger Boromir requested Logan’s permission to separate from them and search for his Little Ones and his brother. Knowing how much he worried for them Logan had agreed and Boromir had disappeared into the chaos of the battle after he had requested Logan be careful, his eyes settling not only on the Orcs but on Rogue as well.

With no sense of time and place Logan began to fight with Rogue by his side, slashing away with his claws and jumping up on the Orcs so he could plunge his claws through their chests. As the battle raged on Logan grew more and more concerned by Rogue’s behaviour. She was literally getting high on her own power as she sent waves of energy out from her hands toward the Orcs. She began to go after one Orc at a time, toying with them a bit before killing them. She was supposed to watch his back and he almost became a head shorter, only Haldir’s sudden arrival on the battlefield near him preventing it, when she was more into toying with an Orc, laughing at his futile struggles against her powers than doing so. Logan frowned as he saw that Rogue’s powers seemed to grow the angrier and the more evil acts she committed.

When there was a short break in the battle Logan ran to Rogue and put his hands on her arms, shaking her back and forth.

“Snap out of it!” he ordered sharply, his worry hidden under anger. It had been hard and strange to see his normally calm and gentle wife tear Orcs apart limb by limb with an amused smile on her lips. He knew well that everyone had a bit of darkness in them yet he had just never seen it in his wife.

“Why should I?” she laughed wickedly. “I have power. More power than ever before.” With ease she pushed him away, creating distance between them. “I am a Goddess…I am…”

Logan closed the distance between them and slapped her face, hard. “Shut up and snap out of it!” he demanded harshly, Jean’s transformation to the evil Phoenix playing before his eyes. He had promised her he would not let that happen. That he would rather kill her than let it happen…Yet could he really go that far?

“This isn’t you,” he insisted.

“You’re wrong,” she said darkly and suddenly her naked hands were on his face, her gloves long since discarded during the battle. Logan began to feel his powers and his life being stolen from him and he sank to his knees before her. “All your powers…All will be mine!” she proclaimed with glee.

Pain rushed through him but he found he could not scream. ‘ _Do not let me become something I’m not’._ Rogue’s words came back to him as did his promise. She had trusted him with her love and her soul. He could not betray her now. With a strength he did not know he had he managed to tear himself free from her and using her temporary distraction to his advantage he hit her hard in the face. She fell with a stunned expression to the ground and the red glow in her eyes disappeared. Pained and weak after her attack Logan managed to get to her and gathered her in his embrace.

“Rogue?” he asked guarded. Suddenly tears filled her eyes as the red light in them dimmed and she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, stopping only to cover her skin with the long cape she had been wearing so that he felt the rough material of her cape against his cheek instead of her deadly touch.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered brokenly.

  
Logan took his hand and pressed it against her clothed one, fighting tears himself. “It wasn’t you.”

Rogue nodded, agonised at the truth. “But it was. It was a part of me.”

Logan didn’t know what to say and simply held her as he whispered, “I love you.”

She smiled through tears but it was a sad smile. “I do not deserve your love.”

“You do and always will,” Logan insisted and softly kissed her lips. As they drew apart Rogue’s cheeks were wet with tears.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I could have killed you. I was going to kill you.”

Logan felt uncomfortable with the whole subject. “It wasn’t you.”

Rogue didn’t seem to hear him. “Nothing is as important to me as you,” her eyes held his. “I don’t need any powers. I am content to remain the way I was.”

As the words left her, as she felt the truth in them, she also felt a burden lift from her shoulders. Her face glowed with wonder. “It is gone.”

  
”What is?” Logan asked puzzled, slight worry in his voice, all the while keeping his senses open and alert for any incoming Orcs. The battle had calmed down but it hadn’t stopped.

“Sauron’s voice in my head. I no longer hear it.” She lifted her left hand and tried to call her magical powers to her but nothing happened. “My powers are gone.”

“Are you sad that they are?” Logan asked, trying to contain his own joy at this piece of news.

She looked thoughtful for a moment before she shook her head. “No, they had to go. They were never rightfully mine.”

Logan nodded satisfied, feeling a wave of love and peace despite holding her in the middle of a battlefield. “Good.”

“Boromir was right. It took something dramatic for him to see the truth about the Ring and it did the same for me,” she mused, feeling a new kind of kinship with the tormented warrior.

Logan gently touched her cheek where he had hit her, using his own cape as protection against her mutant powers and she couldn’t contain a grimace of pain at even this gentle touch. A wave of shame and regret filled him. “I’m sorry I hit you,” he said softly.

She smiled warmly, forcing away her anguish at the memory with an attempt at humour. “Lov, you have my permission to hit me any time I try to kill you.”

Logan smiled back, relieved at getting her forgiveness and pressed a kiss to her hair. His heightened senses warned him of approaching Orcs and in one swift motion he was on his feet, having dragged her up with him. He picked up a sword from a dead elf, one of Haldir’s Logan could see by his colours, and threw it to her. Elven swords were lighter than human swords and she would be able to handle this one easier. She hadn’t carried a sword since her magical powers had surfaced, not seeing the need for it.

She sent him a hand kiss. “I’ll cover your back,” she promised, a bit hesitant, fearful that he might not trust her now that she had failed him earlier but he quickly laid her fears to rest. He smiled in acceptance and promised, “I’ll protect yours.”

Soon they were fighting back to back, feeling closer than ever before, feeling happier than ever before despite the serious and dangerous situation. If they were to die in this battle today they would die together and die as themselves…die with their love still intact in their hearts. That was enough…it was all they could ask for.

* * *

Boromir rode through the chaotic battlefield, fanatically trying to locate his brother, Merry or Pippin. So far he had had no luck. His dark forbearing about Faramir made him both eager and anxious to locate his brother. He wasn’t sure if he could handle finding his baby brother’s dead body. On their mother’s deathbed he had promised her he would take care of his brother; that he would always protect him. He had to fulfil that vow.

The battle was large, bloody and noisy. It was almost impossible to locate anybody. Since he had left Logan and Rogue he had only just spotted Haldir and Aragorn but had been too far away from them to ask them if they had seen his brother or the Hobbits. The battle was intense and the Orcs were cruel but efficient warriors. He had already received three wounds that would have been deadly had his body still been alive and not connected to the Ring. However, he was also fighting with a disregard for his own life that he wouldn’t have done had he known severe wounds would prove fatal to him.

Just when he was about to lose hope Ororo flew down and let him know where he could find Merry. Boromir managed to fight his way to the little Hobbit and saw that he had been wounded though it did not look fatal. Merry had beamed with joy at seeing him but with Orcs closing in on them they had no time for heartfelt reunions. Boromir had lifted Merry up into his arms but the Hobbit had insisted he would not leave the wounded and unconscious princess. Boromir first then noticed her and after he had put Merry on his horse, he had then taken Eowyn into his embrace after having checked to be sure her uncle was dead. Holding Eowyn close to his chest he had Merry leaning against his back. Ignoring Merry’s weak protests that he could still fight Boromir fought his way through the chaos and didn’t release his grip on the unconscious princess or Merry until they were some distance behind their own lines. He carefully lifted both the princess and Merry of his horse and placed them under a tree. Giving Merry a warm embrace he asked him to watch over the princess, making sure Merry had his sword with him, before he left them to try and find Pippin and his brother.

Pippin had ridden to Minas Tirith with Gandalf and Boromir hadn’t seen the old wizard either so he made his way to the city.

A sudden sharp pain in his mind and heart made him gasp in fear.

“Faramir,” he whispered pained and guided his horse through the warring city to find the source of his brother’s pain. He reached the palace and dismounted. Cautiously, his sword drawn, he entered the large audience room. The room was a large stone room with the old royal chair standing at the end wall and the room had only two exits, the large entrance door he had just entered through and a small door behind the throne leading deeper into the palace.

The scene that met him filled him with shock and terror. At the end of the room his father sat on the throne, his eyes holding a clearly mad look. After the death of his wife he had fallen further and further into his own paranoid and cruel world but not before now had Boromir seen his father’s madness shine so clearly in his eyes. At his right hand side stood Phoenix, her beauty as deadly as ever, her eyes holding a satisfied gleam that said clearer than words that this was her revenge for his betrayal of her. In the middle of the room was a large funeral pyre where a beaten and bloodied Faramir had been tied to a pole in the middle of the large stack of wood. Sorrow and compassion flowed through Boromir when he saw his brother’s sorry state. He looked only half conscious and had obviously been wounded in battle as well as tortured. Boromir could recognize and separate each wound from what was a battle wound and what was from torture, most likely inflicted by Phoenix, on his younger brother’s body. Faramir looked very young and vulnerable in his distress, his body bloodied and his clothes torn and dirty. His unfocused gaze locked with Boromir’s and he tried to smile. Boromir’s uniform was bloody and dirty and he looked very weary. His choice of a tunic in regal dark red was characteristic for him, but Faramir did not need to see it to recognize him, he would have been able to recognize his brother anywhere, if nothing else from the look of love and concern on his tired face.

“Brother mine,” Faramir whispered weakly, his pained voice almost being Boromir’s undoing. Boromir was suddenly very glad that Faramir was tied so that he was facing away from the throne and therefore could not see the mad gleam in their father’s eyes.

Around the fire stood several soldiers with torches, only held at bay by a very determined looking Pippin, his small sword drawn and Gandalf who stood beside him, all facing the throne and thus his father and Phoenix. There was no doubt that it was Gandalf’s magic that held the soldiers at bay but Pippin seemed determined to protect Faramir with his life if need be.

“Boromir! You’re here!” Pippin said joyfully and almost forgot he was supposed to watch the soldiers in his happiness at seeing the man. Both Pippin and Gandalf had been overjoyed when they had found out that Faramir was alive through the words of a guard from the palace but that joy had turned to pain when they had entered the throne room and had seen that not only had his father had Phoenix torture him, or she had tortured him in Mordor before bringing him back to Minas Tirith but in any case Denethor didn’t seem eager to heal his youngest son. On the contrary he was now about to kill him by burning him on a funeral pyre.

Boromir walked across the hall, his steps echoing in the large room. “What is this madness?” Boromir demanded to know, pointing at his abused brother on the stake with his drawn sword. He wished nothing more than to free him and take him in his arms but the situation was dangerous and Faramir’s comfort would have to wait; first he had to be safe.

His father turned mad and angry eyes at him. “Lady Phoenix has told me all about you, demon who wears the face of my beloved son. I will not allow you to stop me from doing what I must.”

Boromir went to stand beside Gandalf, giving a short respectful nod in greeting and giving Pippin a one armed embrace, keeping his sword drawn and pointed toward the nearest soldiers.

“I am Boromir but you are making me ashamed to call myself your son.”

“Ha,” his father said with contempt. “No son of mine will act this weak…showing respect to that dreaded wizard and such affection towards a lowly Hobbit. Emotions are for women and weaklings; no son of mine would act as either!”

Boromir had to fight to control his anger. “Your anger and your poison almost ruined me. The only pure thing in my life was my love for my brother and for my deceased wife. You did your best to ruin both of those loves but your words will not make me fail now.”

Phoenix gave him a dark smile. “Brave words for a man in your position.”

Boromir fought not to recall his torture at this woman’s hands as well as the pain he felt for the loss of his wife, having now been gone for many months and the agony he felt at seeing his baby brother in so much pain, the latter he knew was Phoenix’s payback for his disobedience when he had not given her the Ring.

“Why are you here?” he asked her directly, trying to control his nervousness at being in her presence again, knowing full well that he could not match her strength.

“I did say it was not over between us, no one betrays me without it having severe consequences. Since you continued to elope me I found your brother to be a suitable, however temporary, replacement and it gave me plenty of opportunity to see if the whispers I hear are true, that you do have a kind of mental connection with your brother so that you share each other’s pain,” she explained coldly.

“If it is I you wish to harm let my brother go and I shall give myself to you,” Boromir offered, spreading out his arms to amplify his offer, unable to bear the thought of his brother suffering anything more because of him.

She smiled evilly at him and shook her head. “This way seem to bring you much deeper and much more painfully to your knees than anything else I might do to you.”

Boromir fought to stay calm. Phoenix was very powerful, he knew that well and therefore he could not risk upsetting her here where she could easily kill his brother and everyone else.

“Can you defeat her?” Boromir whispered to Gandalf who was beginning to look strained as he focused to maintain a magical shield around the pyre, Pippin, Boromir and himself.

“No. I can hold the soldiers and her off for a little while yet but she will eventually find a way to bypass my magic. I am not more powerful than her but at the moment she is not used to dealing with white magic and needs time to find a way to defeat me,” Gandalf whispered back, concern evident in his voice.

Boromir nodded at this and turned back to face his father. “Father, stop this. He is your son,” Boromir tried to reason, realising that in a fight the odds would not be on their side.

“He was never my son!” his father thundered. “He was always weak…weak! Wanting peace…wanting to read and be like the Elves. He was no warrior!”

“My brother is a fine warrior but war should only be fought if it cannot be avoided and only for the right reasons,” Boromir tried again, fighting not to get upset over his father’s words as well as his way of addressing his brother in the past tense as if he was already dead. His father was extremely unpredictable; there was no saying what he might do.

“He is no son of mine!” his father thundered and pointed an accusing finger at Faramir’s figure, his back bound to the pole, his face turned away from him. “It is his fault…his fault my wife died.” There was a hint of sorrow in his voice before the anger was back.

“Our mother died from complications received during childbirth which she never recovered from. It was no fault of my brother’s,” Boromir tried again, trying to keep his voice soft and reasonable as to not agitate his father further. Though he had always tried to be the dutiful son he had long ago lost any hints of real and deep love for his father. He had always been a strict and cruel master and his mistreatment of Faramir had earned him Boromir’s distaste.

“Lies! Lies!” His father yelled furiously and waved a hand at the soldiers who moved closer to the stake, only held back by Gandalf’s magic.

“Boromir?” Faramir’s weak voice, holding an edge of fear made Boromir’s blood boil with rage. He took a step toward the throne, his sword raised and pointed at his father but his eyes swept across the soldiers.

“Men, soldiers of Gondor. There is an enemy to be fought outside the city walls. Your fight is not here.”

“Sire, our Steward rules the city still and he commands differently,” one of the officers said, his voice betraying that he far from enjoyed the assignment he had been given but honour and duty bound him for life to obey his Steward, even if he was mad.

“Madness releases you from your bond of honour,” Gandalf said.

The officer shook his head. “Only the Steward can release us.”

Boromir’s eyes fell on his father. “Release these men from their bonds or command them to stay away.”

His father leaned forward in his chair, a challenging look in his eyes. “Or what?”

Boromir’s eyes darkened. “Or they will recall that the death of the Steward also releases them from their bond.”  
  


“Only to me. They will be bound to you instead,” his father reminded him.

“True.”  
  


“You only wish to run my army! You seek to betray me! You, the demon who wears my beloved son’s face!” his father cried.

“I may be your son but I was never beloved by you,” Boromir said steadily, his sword not moving an inch from where it was pointing toward his father. He wasn’t sure if Phoenix would interfere if he threw the sword at his father or tried to rush him but he knew if she did he would already have lost. He knew better than anyone did the extent of her powers.

“You are thinking of ending your father’s life to save us,” Gandalf whispered to Boromir, his eyes on the Steward, simply stating a fact, giving no hint of what he thought of this.

Boromir nodded grimly, the thought having crossed his mind. In his maddened and tortured state death might possibly be what his father would have chosen for himself if he had been given a moment of clarity.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Yet he is my father. Do not ask me to take the life of the man who gave it to me.” It was more duty and a sense of honour that made him request this and not love. It was hard to love the hand that would feed you but only if you showed unquestionable obedience and who’ll beat you if such a mood should strike, for no apparent reason.

“I shall not. I would never make such a request of anyone, least of all you,” Gandalf assured him sincerely, having never even considered such a request. “However you must defy him. Remember that he may have given you life but that was all he ever gave you for love and care he gave not. Life is no debt you are to keep for you never asked to be born.”

Boromir considered these words and found truth in them. His father had never done any fatherly duties, why should he do a son’s? Yet if he did not would he not prove to be as bad as his father?

“Lies and treason! Wherever I turn!” His father yelled furiously, breaking Boromir’s trail of thought. “See? Conspiring against me, the lot of you!” he insisted, pointing toward Gandalf and Boromir who drew apart again and looked at him. His cold eyes settled on Boromir. “Will you betray me also?”

“If you are asking me to choose between my brother and yourself there is no decision to be made. I made that choice the day he was born when I gave my word that I would protect him unto my own death,” Boromir said evenly.

“Traitor!” his father yelled enraged. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

The soldiers slowly closed in on the three men and the stake. The ones who didn’t carry torches drew their swords.

“Any suggestions?” Boromir asked Gandalf, easing Pippin behind him despite the small Hobbit’s protests that he could fight.

“They are your men. Can you not break their bond to your father?”

“Only by his death,” Boromir said softly, not liking the prospect of seeing his father dead despite everything he had put them through. When he was honest with himself he knew that a part of him that he had thought dead long ago would always love his father and would always desire his love and respect the same way Faramir always so desperately had fought for it.

Gandalf caught Phoenix’s eyes but her gaze were as if fixated on the door to the throne room and not on them. “She almost seems to be waiting for someone else,” Gandalf said, almost to himself.

“Let us hope this will mean she will not fight us,” Boromir said before he quickly glanced at Pippin. “I need you to do something for me. Something very important,” he asked of the Hobbit and Pippin eagerly nodded, happy to be given such an important task even though he did not know what it was.

“Anything,” he vowed.

Boromir lowered his voice to a whisper. “On my signal free my brother from his robes and when Gandalf and I say that it is safe try and get him off the stake and place him up against one of the stone walls. It will give you one less flank to guard.”

Pippin nodded solemnly. “You can count on me.”

Boromir smiled and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “I know.”

“Ready?” Gandalf asked as Boromir stood beside him again. “I will hold Phoenix back and try and keep the soldiers from reaching the stake with my powers but that means I cannot fight them. You must disarm the soldiers before Phoenix intensifies her attack and I lose my hold on the magical shield I have put around the stake and your brother,” Gandalf explained.

“Understood,” Boromir nodded. He caught eye contact with Pippin before he yelled, “Now, Pippin!” and ran toward the nearest soldier, his sword raised. He did not wish to harm or kill his fellow countrymen who were just doing their duty so he did his best to disarm the soldiers and knock them down but not permanently harm them. Soon he was fighting against several soldiers and was once again glad that he could not die. However, there were too many soldiers even for him as an immortal to be able to handle as each wound slowed him down. He saw that Pippin had managed to cut Faramir’s bonds but there were soldiers all around so Gandalf had called the Hobbit to his side. Pippin now stood beside Gandalf, doing his best to hold a weak and disorientated Faramir on his feet. Supporting Faramir meant that Pippin couldn’t hold his sword and only Gandalf’s magic kept the soldiers at bay since there were too many for Boromir to keep them all occupied.

“Boromir I cannot hold my shield any longer,” Gandalf warned him, his voice strained and pained as Phoenix sent him a triumphant smile.

“I cannot reach you,” Boromir warned, caught up in a fight with five soldiers at the same time. He cast a quick look at Gandalf and saw that several soldiers stood before them with their swords raised, ready to strike the wizard, Pippin and his brother down as soon as Gandalf’s shield fell.

“My hold is slipping,” Gandalf warned and as he spoke he moved to stand before Pippin and the weakened Faramir who seemed about to pass out, only held up by Pippin who was having difficulty supporting the larger and heavier human.

“I cannot reach you!” Boromir warned again, his voice beginning to hold a note of panic and fear.

“I…cannot…hold…her…back,” Gandalf warned pained, fighting against Phoenix but her mutant powers were alien to him.

As in slow motion Boromir saw Gandalf’s face twist in agony, saw Phoenix make a hand gesture and suddenly Gandalf’s magical hold broke and the wizard fell unconscious to the stone floor, leaving Pippin and Faramir defenceless against the soldiers.

“Nooo!” Boromir cried and without thinking threw his sword towards his father.

“Phoe…” Denethor began, seeking her protection but she merely gave him a cold look.

“I am here to get my revenge and because it amuses me and helps make the time until this pathetic army falls pass quicker. Your death at your own son’s hand will serve me well. I am not here to aid you in your mad schemes,” Phoenix said coldly.

Boromir’s sword flew through the air and embedded itself in the old Steward’s chest, killing him instantly and stopping any more words from crossing his lips. The soldiers Boromir had been fighting had stopped at once when they saw the old Steward was dead and were now moving away from Boromir.

Boromir’s gaze swept over the soldiers to assure himself they were no threat and as if on cue they knelt on one knee before him.

“Hear me!” Boromir yelled, gaining the other soldiers’ attention as well who had moved in on Gandalf, Pippin and Faramir. “My father is dead and the Stewardship passes to me.”

The soldiers saw that the old Steward was indeed dead and they created some distance between themselves and Gandalf, Pippin and Faramir before they too knelt on one knee, facing Boromir as they did so.

“With our life or death we shall serve you until your last breath. Long live the new Steward of Gondor, Boromir,” the officer who had spoken earlier proclaimed and the soldiers repeated the old vow.

“We have no time for this,” Boromir waved irritated at them, uncomfortable with the whole process. He had no time now to mourn his father or to feel guilty for what he had done. Though he regretted what he had had to do he would have done it again in a heartbeat if his brother, Pippin and Gandalf were in the same kind of danger. However, that did not mean that he wasn’t aware that when he had a moment’s pause his actions here today would haunt him forever, something he was sure Phoenix had been well aware of.

“You two,” Boromir went on, pointing to the officer and a soldier at his side. “Take my brother to his chambers and get a healer to see him.” As the men rose and the officer carefully took his brother into his arms and they began to move away, leaving by the door behind the throne, Boromir drew a relieved breath, seeing that Phoenix still seemed uninterested in them, her gaze fixated on the large outer door.

“You five,” Boromir indicated five soldiers with a wave of his hand. “Go stand watch at my brother’s chambers. Should the walls be breached protect my brother with your life yet if you see all is lost do not let my brother fall into enemy hands.” It was a hard command to give but he knew his brother would prefer a quick death at a friend’s sword than spend years as a prisoner of the Orcs, living the life of a slave with pain and humiliations flung his way every day. That was no life for a young man as fair and emotional as his brother. It was no life for anyone. Should the walls be breached he himself would fight till the end but he feverishly hoped that if all was lost he would find a way to kill himself instead of falling into enemy hands. He had been Phoenix’s prisoner once and never wished that again.

Gandalf came around and Boromir went and helped him to his feet. Gandalf quickly figured out what had happened and put a calming hand on Boromir’s shoulder, his voice sympathetic. “You did what you had to do. You had no choice.”

Boromir nodded. “I know.” Yet there was still a hint of guilt in his voice.

Pippin, sensing the danger was over, embraced Boromir’s legs happily. “I feared you had perished,” he said.

Boromir gently released his grip and bent down to embrace him properly. “I would not perish before I had made sure you were safe.” His voice and face grew serious as he drew back so that they were face to face. “Listen carefully. I have found Merry and he is safe for now.” Pippin’s face lit up in joy and Boromir foresaw his next question. “However, I cannot take you to him at this time. He is behind our lines.”

“But he is safe,” Pippin insisted, needing to be sure of this fact.

“Yes. For now.” Boromir shared a look with Gandalf who nodded toward Phoenix. Though she was no danger now she could become one at any moment. She had after all broken through Gandalf’s magical shield, showing she was a great threat if she chose to be. “Pippin, I wish you to go with the soldier over there,” Boromir pointed toward a soldier, “and stay with my brother. If the Orcs breach the walls and enter the palace…”

“I know,” Pippin said grimly. “Neither he or I will become the objects of the Orcs’ sinister amusement.”

Boromir felt a wave of sadness at knowing that the young Hobbit would have some idea of the cruelty the Orcs could do. However, though he could try and protect his Little Ones from bodily harm he could not save their innocence when they were in the middle of a bloody war. Innocence was always the first thing that got sacrificed in a war and Boromir felt the loss of it more than ever.

“Thank you,” he settled with. Pippin embraced him again before he went to the soldier who showed him to Faramir’s room. In the doorway behind the throne, Pippin turned and waved at him. Knowing that if the walls fell he would never see either Faramir or Pippin again Boromir waved back with a great sense of melancholy.

Boromir took a deep breath to gather his wits around himself, feeling himself grew weary from the battle and all the emotions and fears he had been through in such a short time. “The rest of you go protect the city. If the walls have been breached form one last line of defence around the palace,” Boromir ordered of the rest of the soldiers who saluted him before hurrying off to do as he bid, disappearing through the large entrance door and out the way Boromir had entered.

Boromir and Gandalf shared a look that spoke volumes as now only they and Phoenix remained. They could try and fight her but despite Gandalf’s magic and his own inability to die he very much doubted they could win. Something other than brute force was Phoenix’s weakness yet he wasn’t sure what.

“Who is she waiting for?” Boromir wondered out loud, beginning to find Phoenix’s fixated glance at the entrance door to the throne room, disturbing.

Suddenly the large wooden double door opened and a tired Scott entered, his sword bloodied and his clothes dirty.

“She is waiting for me,” he said evenly, though his face showed a world of emotions.

* * *

The trip to Minas Tirith had felt long and the ghosts had made Scott feel uncomfortable. They seemed to be evil minded, only held back by Aragorn’s power as the rightful heir to Gondor’s throne. Finally they had reached the city and they had found the attack was already under way.

Scott had searched for his friends but the battle had been too big and confusing for him to locate them. A sudden sharp pain followed by dark images of torture and death assaulted his mind, distracting him from the battle so that he barely escaped with his life intact. Only Aragorn’s quick intervention saved him from becoming a head shorter. He repaid his debt to Aragorn soon after when he managed to blast one of the gigantic elephant beings to kingdom come who had given Aragorn great trouble. The painful attacks on his mind began to come with regular intervals and he identified it as a twisted and dark version of the mental report he had shared with Jean. Letting the mental pull guide his way he had come through the city and now stood face to face with a stranger wearing his beloved’s face.

“You took your time, lover,” Phoenix teased darkly. “But if I know you, dear husband, you probably stopped on the way to help some old lady across the street,” the last sentence was said with an air of pure contempt.

“Jean would help anyone in need, enemy or friend. We have this in common,” Scott reminded her softly, moving further into the room, his sword still raised and held out before him. He fought with a Gondorian sword and had to use both hands to be able to balance it perfectly since he hadn’t had sword practice on a daily basis the way human males native to Middle Earth had.

“Ha,” Phoenix snorted. “Jean was weak. That is why she had to die.”

Scott closed his eyes briefly in pain, his grip around his sword tightening. “She was the strongest woman I have ever met and she was my wife.”

“Scott,” Gandalf began, about to offer his assistance.

“Go. Go defend the city. I will take care of…this,” he couldn’t make himself say her name.

Boromir cast a worried look from Phoenix to Scott. He couldn’t see how Scott had much of a chance even with his powerful eye beams. “You are certain?”  
  


“I am.”

Gandalf and Boromir began to slowly leave the room, cautious of Phoenix though her full attention was on Scott.

“Be careful,” Gandalf warned and Scott nodded, his eyes only on Phoenix.

Boromir hesitated for just a second, remembering his torture at Phoenix’s hands and not wishing Scott to be subject to that. Scott sensed his hesitation and added softly, “Aragorn has need of you…Gondor has need of you.”

Boromir nodded understanding. “May Eru be with you,” he said simply and Scott nodded his thanks for the religious prayer. He wanted to tell them to say farewell to Ororo, Rogue and Logan from him should he not return but he did not want to risk drawing Phoenix’s attention to his friends so he kept silent, taking comfort in remembering that they had said their farewells when they had parted in Edoras.

With a loud sound in the sudden silent room the door fell shut behind them and only Scott and Phoenix were left, locked inside with the lifeless body of the old Steward. Scott cast him a fleeting glance and saw little resemblance to his son and from Boromir’s words there were even less of him in Faramir…thankfully as Scott had heard enough about the old Steward to not wish to meet him; not that there was any chance of that now.

“We’re finally face to face and you have nothing to say?” Phoenix taunted as she moved toward him, her steps echoing in the high ceiling room.

“I have dreamt you will kill me,” he said calmly, his sword following her movements.

Phoenix raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Perceptive dreams you have, dear husband of mine because death is all that awaits you here.”

She had reached him and they now stood with only his sword between them. Something in the way she said those words made Scott formulate a theory…A theory that could help save Middle Earth and his wife’s life and soul.

“I feared my dreams. I feared my own death,” Scott said slowly, thoughtfully. “But I see now that my death will not be my failure but my victory. Like Boromir’s vision quest to Rivendell, my dream also told me what to do.”

“And how’s that?” Phoenix asked with a hint of curiosity in her voice.

With a soft smile Scott let his sword fall to the floor, now standing defenceless before her. “Because a part of Jean still lives inside you and the pain and regret she will feel over my death will finally free her,” he said softly, determined, sure of Jean’s love for him and that it was still alive somewhere, buried deep within Phoenix.

Her eyes darkened in rage. “Do not count on that. Jean was weak and I killed her. There is only me now.”  
  


Scott shook his head. “I don’t believe that. You would not hate me this intensely if not a part of you still loved me just as intensely and that part of you is Jean.”

“You’re deluding yourself,” she snorted but there was a hint of doubt in her voice. Could she really only hate him this much if a part of her still loved him?

“Jean, I loved you from the first day I saw you,” Scott began softly, his voice honest and open. He had accepted his fate; he had no regrets.

“Shut up!” she thundered and slapped him across the face with such force that he landed on the floor in front of her. She stretched out her right hand toward him, gathering her powers about her.

Scott fought down the fear that threatened to rise and feverishly prayed that his gamble would prove right…only he would never know. He hoped Logan, Rogue and Ororo could get safely home…he hoped Aragorn would win this war. Yet he wouldn’t be there to see either. Though he had accepted his fate he still mourned what he was missing out on more than what he was about to face. This was not how he had wanted to die yet he got to die together with Jean so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. “Jean…I forgive you,” he said softly, meaning it.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she yelled furiously and used her telepathic powers to destroy his mind while she used her telekinesis to strangle him. He made a suffering sound for a second before he lay still, never to move again. At the moment of his death, though he had known it would come, a look of surprise and shock was still as if carved into his face at seeing the woman he loved be the instrument of his own demise.

Phoenix took some deep, calming breaths but found that she couldn’t relax. Her eyes settled on his face and her eyes followed the small twinge of blood that was on its way slowly out of his mouth. She knelt beside him and looked at his lifeless body. Scott’s lifeless body…her husband. Memories resurfaced. Scott smiling at her. Saying he loved her. Taking her out for dinner…Their wedding. How he had never once complained that she worked strange hours because she worked at the nearby hospital as a doctor as well as being the school’s doctor. How he had never once felt threatened by her position as a doctor contra his own as a high school teacher. How he had simply ignored the evil whispers when someone commented on their noticeable age gap, making him much younger than her. She recalled how lucky she had felt she had been when they had started going out. She recalled how sad and broken up she had been the last time she had returned from having become Phoenix…she recalled how Scott and Charles had brought her back from her own power trip. How could she have allowed herself to become evil again? Charles had bound her powers down so it shouldn’t have been possible…Sauron of course. He must have freed the full potential of her powers when she had arrived in Middle Earth, most likely brought here by Sauron’s powers, and tempted with power and glory she had turned completely.

Her eyes fell again on Scott’s face and tears began to fall from her eyes.

“Oh, Scott,” she whispered brokenly. Oh, how the mighty fall…All this sorrow for what? Power? It was not worth it. Nothing was worth losing Scott over. “Oh, dear God…What have I done? What have I done?” She took Scott into her embrace and cried by his shoulder.

“Forgive me,” she repeated over and over again, not really sure who she was asking forgiveness from since there was no one left to answer her. It could have been forever or just a few seconds but a sudden sharp light outside the palace brought her back to reality and she gently laid Scott’s body back on the floor. She planted an endlessly gentle kiss to his forehead before she rose, her eyes glimmering with power, darkness and tears.

“I am too powerful to return to what I was,” Phoenix said softly, a determined look in her eyes. “But I shall do the only thing I can do for you now…I shall avenge you.” For a brief moment her grief and pain had killed her hunger for power, replacing it with a thirst for revenge but she knew it was only a question of time before her grief would not be strong enough to hold the temptation of power back. Yet she didn’t think of that now. All she wanted to do was to get her revenge…everything else didn’t matter.

With those words she opened the door to the throne room with a wave of her hand and took flight. She saw that the battle had broken up, the remains of the Orc army were fleeing toward Mordor. She guessed the flash of light she had seen had been the disappearance of the ghosts Scott had brought with him. She had felt them when they had entered the battlefield, their minds were a dark and twisted place even she would not wander into. Now their presence was gone from the battlefield as well as her mind. However, the beautiful angel like Elves and men that Logan had brought with him remained. Their minds in contrast were pure, filled with warmth and light and because of this she did not wander into them. Their light was disturbing to her. She caught a glimpse of Logan and Rogue and knew they had spotted her as well as she flew over the battlefield. She fleetingly wondered why Ororo was not airborne but was just happy that she needn’t fight with her to get to her destination.

Filled with guilt, anger and power she flew across the lands. As she spotted the fleeing Orcs she began to lash out with her powers at them, killing as many of them as she could and afterwards she felt better though they weren’t the ones she wanted to kill.

“Sauron, I shall kill you and eat your heart if you have one which I doubt,” Phoenix vowed as she flew toward Mordor and what she knew would be her final fate…one way or the other.


	33. Book 3: Chapter 8: The End Of An Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbuy to loved ones, finding new loves and moving on.

###  Chapter 8: The End Of An Era

This was a day the X-men had never thought would come to pass. The day they buried one of their own.

Three days had past since the battle and after the original chaos a kind of sad calmness was finally beginning to fall over the battle worn city. It had been Boromir who had found Scott’s body. He had become worried, knowing better than anyone how evil Phoenix could be and had gone back with Gandalf. Luckily, Phoenix had not been there but Scott’s body had laid broken on the cold stone floor. In death he looked so very young and Boromir had realized that the man was a few years younger than even his baby brother. Fighting grief Boromir had knelt beside Scott and had folded his hands above his chest and had placed his sword between them, preparing him for his final journey in the way warriors do. Logan and Rogue had burst into the room, having gotten a bad feeling when they had seen Phoenix fly away. Rogue had broken down crying and had knelt beside Scott, embracing his quickly cooling body while Logan had insisted, even threatened, Gandalf to do some magic on him. When Gandalf had finally managed to get him to accept that death was the one thing he could not control he had attacked Boromir, wanting him to grant Scott the same deal he himself had but Boromir was helpless to do anything. Suddenly all his rage had left him and Logan had knelt beside Rogue and pulled her away from Scott’s body and into his embrace, holding her close and safe, mumbling words of nonsense comfort as she cried hysterically. Logan’s eyes had been on Scott, a look of guilt and regret in them. Scott had been a member of his pack, one of his own. No one hurt what was his. No one! He swore revenge there and then.

Gandalf had sent a soldier for Ororo and she had arrived soon after with Legolas by her side. Her grief had overwhelmed her when she had seen her slain friend, but being Ororo she had cried in silent dignity and had insisted she alone prepared his body. For the next three days she had closed herself off in a chamber in the palace with the body of a man who was more a brother than a friend. The others had forced themselves to help make order in the chaos of the city, get the dead buried, organize the army and get the wounded to the houses of healing. Eomer had been heartbroken when he had found his sister with Merry, fearing the worst. He had taken her to the house of healing connected to the palace and had since then guarded her body, refusing to leave, sleep or eat, determined not to fail to protect her again.

They had all agreed that Scott deserved a grand ceremony but his body had to be buried or burned now. As the one closest to Scott Ororo had decided his body should be burnt, his ashes spread to the wind. Scott had always longed for freedom and had loved the times she would fly with him. In death she wished him to have that freedom.

Ororo had dressed Scott in the richest of robes, provided by Boromir from the palace and had washed and prepared his body for his final journey. She had also removed his glasses; wishing him to see all the colours of the world, see with the freedom he had been denied in life. In death his eyes had frozen open and wide and she let them remain so. His eyes were a clear blue…she had never known this before, had never seen them before. Now she’ll never see them again. She had had Boromir, Aragorn, Haldir and Logan carry his body on a wooden bier to the funeral pyre Aragorn and Boromir had prepared for him outside the palace.

The funeral had been small due to the chaos, the ongoing war and the many wounded who couldn’t attend due to their weakened state. Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, Logan, Rogue, Legolas, Haldir, Pippin, Gimli and Ororo had attended, dressed in fine dark and sober robes. The rest of their command team was either on watch, wounded or had been slain so it was a small and sad group who followed Scott as he left the world behind. King Théoden’s funeral pyre had been held just the day before and it was a very torn Eomer who had attended, having great difficulty being far from Eowyn which was why he didn’t attend the ceremony today.

“Who wishes to speak? Do so now, one at a time, and I shall end the ceremony with a prayer for the Goddess and by sending…my friend on his way,” Ororo said with tears in her voice, holding the torch that would burn her friend’s body. Scott looked so young, so alive lying on the pyre, his blue eyes open as if searching for someone, his hands neatly folded above his chest, his sword between them. She had to force herself not to go to him…not to keep him with her. It was mostly Logan, Rogue and Legolas’ insistence that had managed to get her to give his body up as it was. She kept wishing, hoping for a miracle. After all they had been through…it shouldn’t have ended like this.

“Scott was a good friend to me at a time where I was at my weakest. He believed in me…he brought hope. He shall be missed and he shall be avenged,” Boromir said softly, speaking first since no one else had. The silence seemed deafening and Ororo’s sadness was reflected in the weather as thunder sounded and it began to rain, yet the rain never touched her torch, the pyre or Scott but avoided it, creating small circles and closing Scott off from the world by a curtain of rain. This sight alone was heartbreakingly beautiful.

“He was a leader of men. I would have followed him had he asked me,” Aragorn said, his voice tight with emotions, having to raise his voice to be heard above the rain that was pouring down upon them. True, Aragorn and Scott hadn’t gotten along in the beginning but that was in the past. Now, he couldn’t have respected Scott more even if he had tried. There had been too many funerals, too much loss lately. It was so hard to keep fighting when all their victories drowned in the blood of friends and allies.

“He was an honour bound warrior who gave his life readily for strangers and friends alike. His memory shall live forever,” Gandalf said softly, his gaze, as all their gazes were, locked on the young man on the pyre. So young…how had someone so young managed to gain so much strength….such wisdom?

“Brother of the soul to my love; I salute you in death as I did in life,” Legolas said softly and took his folded right hand to his lips, kissed it and then took it to his forehead in a respectful greeting. His insightful greeting made Ororo give him a grateful smile through her grief and he smiled back, briefly squeezing her free hand in comfort before he let her go.

“He was so kind to me…He shouldn’t have died,” Pippin mumbled, tears strangling anything else he had wished to say as he broke down crying. Boromir knelt and embraced him and the small Hobbit cried on his shoulder.

“A friend shall always be avenged and he was a friend to me,” Gimli said simply.

“You were a valiant warrior, Scott from a distant land,” Haldir said solemnly, his eyes on the young man on the pyre. He wore no armour but still wore an Elven sword by his side and Haldir now drew it, blinking rain out of his eyes as he saluted Scott with it by taking the blade to his face. “May the Illuvatar greet you home; you have earned your place in the afterlife.” Haldir sheathed his sword again when his greeting was complete, looking sad, grim and miserable in the rain, his long golden hair dark from the rain, fitting the mood of the gathering.

“Oh, Scott. What are we to do now? This was never supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to leave us,” Rogue cried softly, seeking comfort in Logan’s embrace, hiding her face by his shoulder.

Logan stroked her calmingly over the hair but as he looked through the rain at where Scott lay, dry but cold, alone…separate. Logan’s eyes were sad yet hard. “See what your love brought you…” he mumbled sadly and shook his head as a flame of hate lit up in his eyes. “But I shall kill that bitch. I swear I’ll avenge you.”

Ororo was the last one to speak and she moved to stand before the pyre, inside the area where she had denied the rain to fall. She went to Scott and as tears fell freely from her eyes she planted a soft kiss to his cold brow. She stroked his hair tenderly, her cheeks wet with grief. “I love you, Scott, brother and friend. May the Goddess take good care of you and grant you freedom. May your soul soar.”

She stepped a bit back and then lit the pyre, stepping back beside Legolas when the flames began to grow. The warmth of the pyre was in contrast to the rain still falling over the gathered people but the rain helped hide the tears they were all crying.

“Fly home, my friend,” Ororo whispered in a tearful voice. “Fly home.”

It seemed like a moment, it seemed like a lifetime before Scott disappeared in a blaze of glory. Slowly, one by one, everyone left the pyre until only Legolas and Ororo remained. Ororo watched the flames, watched the wood burn to the ground, aiding the fire to burn faster with her powers. She hardly noticed Legolas laying a blanket over her shoulders or how he made her sit down before the pyre. Lost in her own mind she lost control of the weather and the rain stopped.

When the pyre was only ashes dancing to the wind a weak smile graced Ororo’s lips and Legolas gently helped her to her feet and back to the chamber he had been assigned where she fell into an exhausted sleep, held warm and safe in Legolas’ arms.

* * *

Princess Eowyn slowly returned to consciousness by the constant dull ache of pain in her battered body. For a moment she was disorientated. Where was she? What had happened? Then memory returned and with it a deeper, worse kind of pain than the one in her body. Her uncle, Theoden, was dead. She had witnessed it, a terrible sight that would haunt her forever. Her eyes focused on the wooden beams of the house above the bed she lay in and tears began to run down her cheeks; tears of relief as it became apparent from her peaceful state and the fact that she was in a bed that the battle had been won and tears of grief at the loss she had suffered.

“You will make a full recovery,” a kind voice said next to her and she turned her head and saw Aragorn sitting by her bedside, finishing the bandage on her right arm and living up to his reputation as an excellent healer. She looked around and saw that she was in a healing house and from the coat of arms on the walls showing the White Tree of Gondor she knew it had to be one of Minas Tirith’s houses. From the high standard and fine detail of the woodwork and the beds she guessed it was one of the finest healing houses in the capital.

“Is my brother well?” She asked, trying to control her fear as she forced her tears and her grief for her uncle away. Aragorn nodded reassuringly and gently laid her right hand down beside her body as he was finished bandaging it. She noticed she had been washed and dressed in a fine and warm long white nightdress and she had had all her wounds bandaged. She spotted Ororo walking between the beds, helping with the wounded. She had her right arm in a slide as a testament to her injured right shoulder, which was also bandaged. Despite the serious and sad situation Ororo held a special glow in her eyes and a small smile on her lips as she on occasion cast looks toward Legolas who was apparently waiting for Aragorn to finish up and return to debating what was next for the armies who had joined forces against Sauron. Like her, Aragorn and Ororo had also washed up and changed clothes and since she wasn’t in a battle situation she wore a dress. Both Legolas and Aragorn were unarmed out of respect of the wounded in the healing house, having left their weapons in the small entrance hall of the house.

“Your brother fares well. He has been deeply worried for you and have been sitting by your bedside constantly and have just now left, exhaustion forcing him to move,” Aragorn answered her question and her most pressing fear dissolved.

Assured by his words more details returned to her and she grew concerned again, “And how fares Merry? After I killed the Witch King I lost consciousness.” She remembered him from the battle; brave and strong, loyal till the end…she didn’t recall him having ever left her side.

“Boromir found him guarding you and brought you both to safety. After the battle we brought you and other high ranking officials to this,“ with a hand Aragorn indicated the healing house, “the healing house attached to the palace. Merry is here, in the bed to your left.” Eowyn turned her head and saw that Merry was indeed sleeping peacefully beside her. She smiled at seeing him well and safe. “He will make a full recovery within a few days. Pippin has been sitting with him but has been helping Boromir in between. He should return soon.”

Assured and suddenly feeling very drained Eowyn relaxed her body back on the bed. “What news do the reports from the battle say?”

Aragorn grew serious and a sad look was in his eyes as he was reminded of the enemy they still hadn’t defeated and the losses they had suffered. “We suffered great losses all around. Our army is down to half its original size and about half of those left alive are injured and will be unable to fight in another battle for quite some time. I had to release the Oath Breakers as they had fulfilled their vow to me. The ghosts Boromir, Logan and Rogue brought with them cannot come any closer to Mordor than Minas Tirith. They tried to get closer but the evil of the place destroys them. Furthermore, them taking on spiritual form drains them and thus they have by now all left for the Undying Lands,” Aragorn explained, remembering the warm farewell that the Elven leader of the ghosts had gotten from them all, but especially from Boromir, Logan and Rogue who had come to know him well and had taken an instant liking to the brave Elven soldier. The Elven commander himself had not been sad to leave, on the contrary he had been eager to do so when he had found out that his lover had been slain in battle and was now awaiting him in the Undying Lands. Like his friends Aragorn had felt better about seeing yet another ally disappear now that he knew he was going to join a loved one who he had longed to be reunited with for so many years.

“I was surprised, though happily so, that their spirits had lingered here and were willing to help us,” Eowyn said, trying to distract herself from the pains and aches of her body by talking to Aragorn. Ever perceptive he saw the small signs of her discomfort and took a glass from the small bedside table that stood between her own and another bed wherein she could see a young man lying, his face turned away from her.

“Drink this. It will help with the pain,” Aragorn said softly and gently helped her by holding her head as he assisted her in drinking. As he put the glass back he answered her silent question. “Galadriel had seen a dark future where their help would be needed. An army of warriors swore that they would remain here until they had assisted their descendants. Now, they have done so and have left to claim their rightful place of honour in the Undying Lands.”

“I see,” Eowyn mumbled and felt her eyelids grow heavy and her speech slurry. The drink hadn’t just eased her pain but aided sleep.

Aragorn looked sad and uncomfortable for a moment before he spoke again. “Of the command team we not only lost your uncle but also Scott.”

A wave of grief washed over her and she permitted tears to fall though fought to keep her dignity. She could have loved that man. Despite her uncle and brother’s warnings she knew…she could have loved him. She **had** loved him.

“He was a great man and a fine leader. He will be missed,” she said softly, fighting to get her emotions under control. Everyone she loved ended up dead. So many people dead…so much fighting. Would it ever end?

“He will,” Aragorn agreed, his own grief clear in his voice. He had respected Scott. He had been a good leader and a good man and shared hardships during battle had created a bond between them despite their original differences. He would indeed be missed. Aragorn couldn’t help but see that Eowyn’s grief was not only because of Scott’s leadership abilities but also because of a deep affection if not love for the man. He didn’t say anything though. It was not his place and it would only add to her grief.

“Aragorn, we must leave now. The others are awaiting us,” Legolas said softly and lay a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. Looking at Legolas he looked better, stronger, calmer…happier than Eowyn had seen him in a long time and she knew instantly that everything was all right between Ororo and him. Though she wished them happiness their joy was painful to her when she was in mourning and she turned her head away from him, facing the young man in the bed beside hers instead.

Aragorn gently touched her bandaged arm before he rose and left with Legolas, their footsteps fading away. For a long while she stared at the wall at the far end, over all the beds, her eyes blurry with tears. Finally she fell into an exhausted but deep sleep.

“Boromir!” The happy cry awoke Eowyn from her sleep and she blinked and saw the young man in the bed beside hers try to sit up. He was a mess of bruises and bandages and had obviously had a much worse battle than she had. She expected she could be released from the healing house within a week’s time while the young man looked like he would have to stay here for at least a month more; probably longer.

“My sweet Faramir,” Boromir said gently as he came to sit by his little brother’s bedside, his eyes and face alight with warmth. He had washed and changed into regal clothes in strong and clear colours, looking like a King.

So, this young man was Faramir, Boromir’s beloved little brother. Interested Eowyn watched the two brothers as Faramir tried to sit up but lacked the strength and Boromir gently assisted him, rearranging pillows. There was no doubt that Boromir was used to looking out for his brother, his actions spoke of years of caring for a brother who she guessed had grown to be loved as deeply as if he was a son instead of a brother, holding within that love a sense of pride, responsibility and duty.

“Thank you,” Faramir smiled his thanks and Boromir nodded before he grew grim.

“I visited you two times earlier but you were not awake yet and Aragorn bid me wait and let you sleep the worst of the pain away. However, now that you have woken up you need to know what happened to our father.”

At the mention of him Faramir got a scared look in his eyes and Boromir instinctively reassured him. “You need not worry. He will do you no harm…he cannot, not any longer.”

Faramir smiled his thanks. “You would have protected me as always.” It was a statement of fact and nothing else.

“Faramir,” Boromir said seriously, “our father is dead.” He was about to admit that he had been forced to kill him but decided Faramir did not need to know that; it would be a burden he did not have to carry. Let him remember his father and Boromir himself without any conflicting emotions. Boromir thought it was enough that he himself was haunted by his deed, necessary as he had felt it had been.

  
A hint of grief flashed through Faramir’s eyes. “I’m saddened. He was an unhappy man.”

“After everything he put you through…I am amazed by your power to love and forgive,” Boromir said softly. “I am not sure I feel as gracious.”

“Hate will only make you a prisoner or a slave,” Faramir said and Boromir smiled.

“More Elven philosophy, brother?”

Apparently an old joke between them, Faramir simply smiled. Eowyn was intrigued by the easy and deeply affective relationship between the brothers and decided that Faramir wasn’t just a handsome man but also a sensitive and deep one. She lay still and listened to what else there was being said, feeling she was getting to know these two men in a way no one else would. She knew that she really should let them have their privacy but her fascination and curiosity won over her sense of common courtesy.

“You know what father’s death means,” Boromir grew serious again. Faramir nodded as he sobered.

“You are the new steward,” Faramir acknowledged. He made an attempt of a bow while sitting in bed to make up for the kneeling position tradition dictated he should take but his injuries prevented even that so instead he bowed his head toward his brother as he added, “With my life or death I shall serve you until your last breath. Long live the new steward of Gondor, Boromir.” With the old vow he also promised that he, as another son of the late steward, would not try to claim the throne. Faramir had never wanted leadership and was content to let his brother rule.

“Please…do not do that,” Boromir asked and shook his head. “I know I ask a lot when I ask this but I ask you to take the title as steward when I die.”

Faramir looked shocked. “You cannot die!” he protested, the fear clear in his voice.

Boromir calmed him by gently holding his right hand, careful of all his injures. “If all goes well the Ring will be destroyed and with it me. If all fail…those left alive would wish for death,” he ended darkly, a haunted look in his eyes as memories of his torture at Phoenix’s hands returned to him. That wasn’t even half of what he was sure he could expect if Sauron won.

“ **No** …no,” Faramir protested to such a dark future, tears now appearing in his eyes. “I will not accept such options.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Boromir said seriously. “When I am gone claim your right as steward until the day when Aragorn decides it is time for his official coronation. Then hand all power over to him. You will find him a fair and good master. He will lead Gondor kindly and justly.”

Faramir fought to control his grief. He felt cheated. This was so unfair. He couldn’t lose his brother again. It wasn’t fair that he should die for doing what was right; choosing good instead of evil. It simply wasn’t fair!

“As you wish,” Faramir got out, forcing his tears and pain back.

Clearly saddened by his brother’s distress Boromir stroked Faramir’s cheek as he added, “Cheer up. I am not gone yet. Who knows? Phoenix could have been mistaken.” Even Eowyn who didn’t known Boromir as well as his brother did could tell Boromir did not believe his own words and Faramir didn’t either but he desperately wanted to and thus he took the only hope he could get.

“Yes. Of course,” Faramir forced the words out and for a while neither brother spoke.

Finding the silence too painful Boromir rose. “I must return to the council chambers. We need to debate our next move.” He looked at his brother who looked so young and vulnerable lying in the big bed all wrapped up in bandages and bonds around his broken and abused body. His eyes lingered at Merry’s even smaller and even more fragile looking body in the big bed beside Eowyn. “Take care of the Little Ones,” he asked softly and it was clear that what he hadn’t said was still hanging in the air between them… _take care of the Little Ones…when I am gone and can no longer do so._

“I will,” Faramir promised. Caught up in emotions too strong to express Boromir turned to leave. “Brother?” Faramir soft plea brought him to a hold and Boromir turned to look at him. The look of fear, love and pain in Faramir’s eyes broke him and he returned to Faramir’s bedside in two large strikes. “Take care, my brother,” Faramir asked and reached up his arms as his big brother willingly let himself be embraced. They hung to each other as for dear life; both thinking this could be their final farewell. Finally and reluctantly Boromir drew back.

With a gentle hand on each side of Faramir’s face he said, “You lived in my heart from the day you were born and will do so till the day I die. Having you for a brother made my life worthwhile.”

Faramir blushed and looked down before his eyes again found his brother’s. “You always were and always will remain my brother and my hero. You will live in my heart always.”

Words were poor to convey all they felt. Growing up it had been them against the world and even now that bond still held. Boromir drew back and clasped Faramir’s arm in a warrior’s greeting, careful not to press too hard on his brother’s wounded and bandaged flesh. “Goodbye, my brother. Find happiness,” Boromir wished and Faramir forced a smile through the lump in his throat.

“Peace, my brother.” It was the one thing that had always seemed to escape him and the one wish that said more than any other word. Boromir nodded and their hands fell apart as Boromir walked away. Walking out of the healing house he stopped at Merry’s bedside and softly kissed the sleeping Hobbit’s forehead as a father would a child and stroked his hair before he left the building, never looking back yet somehow aware that his brother’s eyes were following him all the way, desperate to see as much of him as he possible could.

Exhausted and pained Faramir fell back against the pillows. For a while he stared up into the ceiling, his thoughts blank. Then tears began to fall and he turned on his side…coming face to face with Eowyn’s open and sympathetic face. Unashamed by his tears their eyes met and Eowyn smiled reassuringly. Wordlessly she stretched out her own bandaged hand toward him and he caught it and held it in his own bandaged one. They smiled at each other, finding comfort in the simple touch and each other in the middle of their grief.

A feeling of peace and acceptance settled over them both as Faramir finally felt like he had found a woman who would respect and understand him for being who he was, a man, a poet, a writer, a scholar and only ever a warrior if he had no other choice while Eowyn felt like she had finally found someone who would respect her and treat her like an equal. A man who was not afraid to feel, not afraid to show he had weaknesses or to ask for help when needed.

Tired beyond words they fell asleep, their hands still linked and a small smile around their lips; bringing hope of a light in the darkness to the young mortals.

* * *

“What’s that?” Logan asked curiously as everyone’s attention seemed caught by a globe, small enough to fit into the palm of a hand it was about half the size of a football. Scott’s funeral had been yesterday but Minas Tirith was still in too much of a chaos for any decisions on how to deal with the rest of the war to have been reached. Reports on wounded, weapons, dead and dying were still being gathered.

Logan had with Rogue been on his way to a council meeting to debate how they were to proceed. Everyone but especially the X-men and Ororo in particular were still weighted down by Scott’s death, fighting to get by. Together with Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, Rogue, Gimli and Haldir Logan had been moving through the palace and toward the council chambers, Ororo having been delayed in sickbay and Boromir would join them in the council chambers, having had to run an errand before he could join them. However a soldier had brought a cloth covered ball to them and had stopped everyone in their tracks. Everyone but the two X-men had seemed cautious with it and had placed it on a table and not until everyone were out of the line of sight from the covered object had Aragorn pulled the cloth of it, revealing a small glass globe. Despite the others strong reaction to it Logan only found it mildly curious and was more interested in getting to the meeting so they could finally do something and he could have his avenge. He hated this downtime. He wanted to fight. He needed to kill something; it was the only way he knew how to deal with his grief.

“It is the Palantir. It is the eye of Sauron,” Gandalf told them.

“He can see us through it?” Rogue asked worried, remaining close to Logan, feeling his strength helped her through the grief Scott’s death had brought her upon her.

“Only if you call him or catches his attention,” Gandalf explained.

“Really? He can hear you, eh?” Logan said with a dark smile.

“Yes,” Gandalf replied.

“Let’s see about that.” Without another word Logan released his hold on Rogue, having had an arm around her waist.

“Logan?” Rogue asked mildly worried. Logan seemed to have formed a plan which was rarely a good thing.

“Just a moment, darlin’. Just need to make a long distance phone call,” Logan said darkly as he reached the globe and picked it up and held it in his hand.

“Logan, no!” Aragorn warned.

Logan ignored him and shook the globe back and forth as if it was a snow globe. “So, how does this thing work?” He looked at the globe, his gaze intense. “Sauron, pick up, you son of a bitch!” Suddenly the globe felt warm in his hand and a burning eye appeared in it. “You’re Sauron? Not much to look at, are you?” Logan said in disgust.

“Careful,” Gandalf warned and though everyone had tensed they maintained their distance.

“You think you’ve won something by killing our friends but you’ve got another thing coming. You’ll die as painfully as I can fuckin’ possibly make it!” Logan roared hatefully. The globe grew hotter, burning his hand but Logan maintained his hold. His mind got assaulted by images of fire, burning, red-hot pokers and needles, his flesh and bones being shattered and destroyed.

“Logan! Your hand!” Rogue said concerned, seeing his skin begin to darken from the intense heat from the globe and Eomer had to put a calming hand on her arm to prevent her from going to Logan.

“Is that all you’ve got, you bastard?” Logan said through clashed teeth, fighting back the pain with his hate. “I’ve had my mind ripped apart by the most skilled telepaths and been tortured more times than I can remember. Your attempt is just pathetic. Healing factor and all that…I’m still here!”

Aragorn grabbed the globe from Logan and at once the heat it had radiated disappeared and it was cold as marble but the glowing eye remained. “It’s me you want, Sauron. Here I am. Leave my friends out of this,” the King said to Sauron, his eyes locked on the globe. Suddenly the picture shifted and showed Arwen lying on a bed, her life-force drained dry from the evil of Mordor and Sauron. The pain and shock made Aragorn drop the globe to the floor and Gandalf quickly picked it up and covered it up once more.

“Arwen,” Aragorn whispered pained.

“Let me see your hand,” Rogue asked concerned of Logan as Eomer had let her go so she could go to him. Logan did as bid with a grim smile and to her relief she saw his burned hand had already almost completely healed.

“He’s just trying to rattle us,” Eomer said, feeling much better now that he had assured himself his sister was awake and would be all right.

“It seems to be working,” Haldir said in concern and laid a comforting hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “She will be fine, my friend. We immortals feel the drain from Mordor yet we are still here.”  
  


“He’s right. He wouldn’t show that if she was dead,” Rogue said in a sympathetic voice, hoping that it was true.

“She awaits you still,” Legolas said with certainty and Aragorn smiled in thanks and fought to regain his balance.

“That was fun,” Logan declared darkly, his hand now completely healed. “Now, let’s go agree to something so we can kill him already!”

* * *

“We have to think this through,” Eomer warned from where he was sitting at the large table in the banquet hall of Minas Tirith’s palace where they had went to debate what to do now after their run in with the Palantir. The table had been set to hold all the members of the command team, also those in sickbay like Faramir, Eowyn and the Hobbits, as well as those who had been slain in battle and the sight of empty chairs for Scott and Theoden clouded the meeting in sorrow. Maybe exactly because of this sorrow ideas and tempers were running high, the ordeal of the last few days clearly felt on them all.

“If Frodo fails this victory would have been meaningless,” Gandalf warned.

“Of that we can all agree,” Boromir injected in a respectful tone to the old wizard who sat beside him. Though he knew the destruction of the Ring most likely would mean his own destruction as well Boromir was fighting to archive that goal, pushing his own fears to the back of his mind and instead focussing on his brother, the Little Ones, Gondor Herself who would be ruined if Sauron would emerge the victor. Still, at times it was hard to keep his thoughts from wandering and he did, like any other man, fear death. However, it was a weakness he refused to think about, refused to let control his actions. Faramir had once told him that a poet had written that courage was not the absence of fear but doing the right thing despite being afraid. Back then he hadn’t believed those words, so used to his father and everyone else expecting him to show no fear at all but Boromir chose now to believe the words and no longer saw his fear as a weakness.

“We need to act **now**!” Logan insisted hotly and slammed his fist onto the table for good measure. Though they had been far apart in temperament Scott had become a friend; a comrade he had trusted and his death fuelled Logan’s rage.

Rogue placed a calming gloved hand on Logan’s hand, squeezing his fingers and smiling encouragingly to him. Without Scott to balance out Logan’s hot temper she was all that held him back from jumping into any situation head first, asking questions later. She had cried for Scott in Logan’s embrace and his death had placed a sad and haunting look on her face. She had never lost anyone prematurely before. Unlike Logan who had been a soldier, who remembered bits and pieces of people, memories and things that had been taken from him she had never felt any great loss. Somehow she had just thought that her friends could not die. X-men just didn’t die. Yet Scott had died and the realisation of her own mortality as well as her friends’ mortality added shock to her grief.

“Phoenix is on the loose and very powerful. We have to take her into consideration,” Rogue warned, flinching slightly as she spoke. She didn’t like to speak of Jean in such a fashion but Phoenix was not Jean. Jean would never have killed Scott; obviously Phoenix had not had the same restrictions.

“The army…” Legolas began but was interrupted when two guards opened the large, heavy wooden door and admitted Ororo. Her footsteps echoed in the large room as she walked toward the table, having changed clothes from the dress she wore in sickbay as it had been bloodstained and was now wearing a simple but beautiful dress that held a band just below her breasts, showing off her growing stomach. She had told the others of her pregnancy earlier that day and been met with a mixture of joy and worry, the same feeling she had toward her pregnancy. The news of her wedding to Legolas brought more concern, especially from Logan and Rogue, than the mention of her unborn child. As Logan had reminded her when the three of them had been alone; the child she could, hopefully, bring back home when and not if they could get back but she couldn’t bring Legolas. Still, for now they all pushed their concerns to the back of their minds, having more pressing matters and worries.

The guards closed the door behind her with a loud noise as they returned to keeping watch. She looked around at the gathered people and saw that like her they had all washed up and changed clothes which especially the Elves seemed happy to have stolen the time to do as they hated being dirty. They reminded her in many ways of Earth’s cats, graceful, independent and hated being dirty and feeling miserable when it was raining. Despite Aragorn’s many Elven traits he had not taken their almost fanatic need for being clean to heart though he did change clothes and cleaned up, as he had now, when he felt he could afford to do so.

“Sorry for being late,” she apologized and her eyes and face brightened at seeing Legolas. He smiled a bit more reserved but just as warmly at her and gracefully indicated the empty chair beside him. She nodded her thanks as she seated herself. Unable to help herself she took hold of Legolas’s hand and held on tight. She felt like his calm presence helped her find her balance with nature once more and accept Scott’s death and move on.

Scott’s death had pained her deeply, deeper than she had expected it would, and the realization that Jean, a friend who had been like a sister, had been his killer had shocked her to her core. She had cried for him, even cried for Jean as she now saw that her other friend was also gone but her tears hadn’t ended her pain. On top of her grief she had had to fight against the pain she had felt when some of the Elves had died. Luckily they hadn’t lost as many Elves in this battle as they had at Helm's Deep thanks to their ghostly allies but that pain was still there, added on top of everything else. She had worked in sickbay to try and save those she could but had lost patients there as well. There had been so much death and blood these last few days since the battle had ended that she had felt her spirits dying. Only Legolas and the love they shared kept her going.

Aragorn saw their joined hands on the table and frowned in concern but didn’t speak. For now Legolas was safe and thus he would wait to worry more about this till after the final battle against Sauron. He forced his mind off Legolas’s health and the string of longing for Arwen seeing their love brought to his heart, knowing the battle talks demanded his full attention.

“As I was saying the army is in a bad shape as you all know. Even our uninjured soldiers are tired and weary,” Legolas ended, a light in his eyes and a small smile staying on his lips despite his serious tone and mood, a reminder of the joy Ororo brought to his life.

“Ideally we should let the soldiers rest for at least a month,” Ororo added to Legolas’s statement.

“Ideally we should not be at war,” Boromir said softly, his thoughts grim and filled with images of fallen friends as well as the injuries his brother and his Little Ones had sustained. They should never have had been forced to fight; all three had had such innocent souls which had now been destroyed forever as they had been forced to kill to save themselves and others.

In situations like these Aragorn felt the burden of his inheritance dragging him down more than ever and his face and voice was grim as he spoke. “We have all suffered great losses in the cause of this war yet we cannot linger now. We must aid Frodo any way we can. I concur with the plan Haldir and Boromir suggested earlier,” Aragorn nodded to each in turn who gave a respectful nod back. “We must get Sauron’s attention off Frodo and to do so we must muster an attack on the Black Gates of Mordor.”

“Our army will not stand a chance against the forces of Mordor. They will all be killed,” Eomer warned, his expression grim as his mind’s eye supplied him with images of dying and dead comrades and friends, the image of his uncle’s body and his sister’s injuries foremost on his mind.

“I’d be the last to volunteer to a suicide mission but we need to kill these bastards! Since we’re outnumbered we might not be able to win but we can sure as hell give them a run for their money,” Logan said, his anger sparkling cold in his eyes.

“I agree with Logan,” Gimli got in and pain appeared in his eyes at the memory of lost comrades dancing before his mind’s eye. “We have a lot of friends to avenge.”

Aragorn nodded seriously. “Indeed we do.” For a few seconds there was silence around the table as everyone remembered friends and family members who was now lost to them. “Very well,” Aragorn said, having made up his mind. “If everyone agrees prepare the armies. We leave for Mordor the day after tomorrow at daybreak.”

There was a mumble of ‘Aye’ and ‘Agreed’ before the meeting broke up as people got busy trying to make the tired and shrinking army ready for battle.

“Asking you to stay in the city would do me no good, would it?” Logan asked, his tone poorly disguising his worry for Rogue as he addressed her. Logan had a strong and secure arm around Rogue’s waist and she was leaning into him as they walked out of the banquet hall. They parted reluctantly from Ororo as the remaining X-men now felt overprotective of each other but had to part as they had been given different assignments. Logan and Rogue walked toward the buildings in the city where the officers from Rohan’s army had taken residence. They had been assigned to try and get the Rohan division of the combined army ready for battle together with Eomer. This meant they had to send out runners to count how many troops would be able to participate in the battle, how many they had in the hospital and then count their supply of food, weapons, clothes and armour. It would be hectic during the next few days in Minas Tirith as all the different armies from Gondor’s to Rivendell’s Elves prepared for battle.

Rogue leaned against him, enjoying his nearness but her tone was serious as she lifted her head and looked up at him. “No, it wouldn’t.” She still felt guilty for what she had almost done to Logan and there was no way she would let him or her friends, new and old, down again. She forced a smile and put a gloved hand on his mouth and then kissed her gloved hand, the way she gave him kisses when they didn’t have a shawl or a similar small piece of clothing she could kiss through. “Don’t worry so much, lov. We’ll do this together,” she said as she withdrew her hand.

Logan smiled softly at her, his heart filled with love, protectiveness and warmth. “Together,” he agreed and kissed the top of her head.

Elsewhere, walking toward the palace’s healing house, Legolas and Ororo were having a similar debate. “I beg you to reconsider, my wife. For the sake of our own unborn child,” Legolas asked again as they had come to a halt in front of the healing house, facing each other as they spoke.

Ororo shook her head. “I worry about our child too,” she said and instinctively put a protective hand over her growing stomach. “But I am a great asset to this army and if we do not win this battle against Sauron everything will be lost.” Legolas looked miserably at her and she smiled softly as she put a hand against his cheek. “I will not make promises I cannot keep,” she said softly. “But I will promise I will try and be as careful as possible.”

Legolas nodded his thanks as he covered her hand on his cheek with his own before he took her hand in his and softly kissed the back of her hand. “Thank you,” he said seriously and his eyes echoed the love he didn’t say.

She blushed and smiled as she withdrew her hand. For a moment they stood opposite each other, she unsure of what to do. Everything had happened so fast that she had yet to fully learn all the rules of Elven society but one thing she had learnt was that the Elves were a very graceful but private people and public displays of affection in anything but words were rare.

As if he could read her mind Legolas said softly, lovingly. “You are my heart and my life. Your joy is my own; your pain my own. Do not hesitate to call for me to assist you in any way. It is not only my duty to help you through our life together but it is also my pleasure and privilege to do so.” His words and eyes were as warm and burning as a caress yet he hadn’t even attempted to touch her. Though she was normally a reserved person herself she saw no need to be so now. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, pulling him close. As if her fire ignited his own, his arms closed around her and he deepened the kiss. The kiss lasted for a lifetime, holding a desperate intensity that neither could voice. Reluctantly she drew back from him and with eyes filled with love and fondness she caressed his cheek.

“I love you,” she said simply, happy to finally be able to say those words to him.

Again he caught her hand and kissed it, this time inside her palm. He kept holding her hand in his, drawing circles and small figures on the soft skin of her palm. “And I you,” he said simply.

She smiled and the moment seemed to last forever before Legolas reluctantly let go of her hand. “Come to me at nightfall. I will be at the palace assisting Aragorn with the Gondorian army,” Legolas explained and she nodded.

“I will,” she promised and with one last look at her Legolas walked back to the palace, having only left it to follow her to the healing house.

Her work at the House was not only with the patients but also trying to record the patient’s names and what army they were from so their families would know where they were and so the armies would know as well. She watched Legolas disappear into the evening mist that had gathered on the streets of Minas Tirith which was probably for the best as they were still cleaning up after the battle, the sickly sweet stench of the burning bodies of dead Orcs that burned just outside town testified to this as did the mass graveyard they were building, also outside of town which they tried to separate into 3 pieces, one for fallen Gondorian, Rohirrim and Elven soldiers.

She forced her thoughts away from death, forced her loss for Scott to the back of her mind as she entered the healing house, determined to do a good job before she would fall into an exhausted sleep within Legolas’ strong embrace.

* * *

Sauron was going to pay for her loss. Slowly, painfully…she would rip him apart and cast him into the flames of hell itself if possible.

Filled with pain and rage Phoenix flew across Mordor. She had killed a lot of Sauron’s men but had tired of killing minions when Sauron himself was the one she wanted. With green eyes burning with fury she flew straight to Sauron’s hideout. The nightmarish wasteland gave way to Sauron’s mansion and she flew to his tower. She hovered above the ground and was face to face with the red glowing eye that was the spirit being called Sauron. She stopped at a distance of 20 meters from him.

“You killed Cyclops!” she yelled furiously at him, forming a fist with her right hand as she called her powers to her. She felt the very energy of the universe itself pulsing within her but kept surging up even more power as she reached her right hand toward the heavens.

‘I did not. You did,’ came Sauron’s dark, mental voice, hammering against her mental shields. He could easily pick up her turmoil emotions and had seen the events that had happened between her and Scott in her mind as the memory and emotions were tightly connected and under very loose control.

“You lie!” she raged and threw all the energy she had gathered toward him, using her right hand to aim her energy at him. She was sure there would be nothing left of him; she had never used that much energy before. Stunned she watched her telepathic and telekinetic attack glance off him as water on a goose. “It…it cannot be,” she mumbled. Sauron didn’t even seem to have been injured; the eye glimmered as evilly as always.

‘Silly woman,’ the dark mental voice scolded. ‘Do you really think I would have brought you here, would have boosted your powers if not I knew I could always defeat you?’

“You are wrong. No one can defeat me,” Phoenix denied and gathered more energy around herself, again using her right hand as a focus point, reaching it up toward the heavens. “I am Phoenix. I am fire and life incarnate. I get my powers from the universe itself. I cannot be defeated!” With those words she threw another mental bolt of energy toward him, using all her powers, all her energy. Breathing heavily, weary from the strain she watched stunned as again Sauron didn’t even seem to blink…so to speak.

‘You cannot defeat me. You may get your powers from the universe but I get mine from the One Ring, an instrument of pure evil. The universe in itself is neutral. Drawing energy from it you draw the potential for good as well as evil. You have to supply the evil yourself from the energy you harvest and that strains you. I do not have to do so. The energy from the Ring is already pure evil. You cannot defeat me,’ Sauron’s mental voice was dark and taunting, arrogant and sure.

Weakened Phoenix began to feel her mental barriers give way as Sauron hammered into them, trying to force his way into her mind. She instinctively put her hands to her forehead in an old age gesture of self-protection from an inner attack she knew she could not fight on the outside.

“You will not defeat me!” Phoenix hissed through clashed teeth, fighting with all she had to keep him out of her mind but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would lose.

‘I already have,’ he said simply.

Phoenix looked straight at him, an evil smile playing over her lips. She knew what she had to do and she realized the decision wasn’t hard. Phoenix would not be brought to her knees; she would win, no mater what. She would win!

“Defeat this!” She yelled as she used her last energy to fly high up into the sky.

‘What are you doing? You cannot outrun me,’ Sauron reminded her, his voice confident but she could feel his puzzlement. She didn’t reply as she again gathered energy around her, all she could muster. She pointed both her hands downward, ready to take aim. ‘You cannot kill me,’ Sauron said again, a string of evil laughter forcing its way through her failing mental barriers.

“I cannot but I know someone else who can,” Phoenix said evenly, her thoughts on the Hobbits whose journey she had tried to disrupt since she had gotten here. All that had changed. Their success now fitted into her plans. She pointed her hands toward Sauron’s large army where it was moving toward the Black Gates, ready to march on Gondor.

‘What are you doing?’ Sauron demanded to know, a hint of alarm in his voice.

“This is for you, Scott. I could never love you but I know…Jean did,” Phoenix whispered, the most fleeting of pain at his death washing over her but as before it was quickly replaced by rage and anger. Her thirst for revenge was now greater than her thirst for power. With a heart filled with thoughts of revenge she flew faster and faster downward, building up more and more energy as she flew toward the part of Sauron’s Orc army that was closest to where she was which turned out to be the end of the army. The Orc army was slowly marching toward the Black Gates and Gondor and did not notice her as she flew toward them.

‘ **Nooo**!’ Sauron yelled and intensified his attack on her mind. She fought back the pain that was becoming agony. She had to make it. She would not be beaten.

“Defeat this, you sick son of a bitch!” she yelled as she let loose all the energy she had gathered when she was only a few meters from the army. The energy built up was too much for her to handle and before she had time to think another thought the energy vaporized her together with all of Sauron’s army and most of Mordor. Her last action was an arrogant smile and a simple triumphant whisper.

“I win!” she got out, the words hanging in the air as the smoke from the burnt out army began to drift away.

‘ **Noooo**!’ Sauron yelled, enraged. A woman had defeated his army…One woman? This could not be. How could this have happened? Phoenix wasn’t supposed to be willing to give her life for anything, not even revenge. She was supposed to be too power hungry for that. What could have changed that? Love. It was the only emotion powerful enough to break through darkness and evil, even for just a few seconds. Sauron cursed everything and anyone he could think of. Now all he could hope was that Gollum, a creature under his control, would bring the Ring to him. Without an army the Ring was his only hope. Gollum surely would have no such weakness as Phoenix had had when Jean’s love had resurfaced and briefly touched her mind, sending her off on a blind mission of revenge. He could only hope that the Hobbit who carried the Ring was lost and without hope and without love as well…For then his plan could never fail!

Dismissing Phoenix’s attack as a minor setback Sauron would have smiled arrogantly if he had had a body; yes, the Hobbit and Gollum would not fail him. There was no love or hope left for any of them. He could and would still win this war and Phoenix’s last minute sacrifice would have been for nothing just like the sacrifice of that stupid fool of her lover who had given his life to see that small light in her return had been for nothing.

* * *

“Do you see the army moving out?” Faramir asked softly of Eowyn as he came to stand behind her.

She turned from her observation post from where she could see the army moving toward the Black Gates to look at him. He was dressed simply in brown pants and a white shirt, bandages still covering most of his arms and chest and his left arm was in a sling. Still he smiled warmly at her and looked handsome despite his injuries.

“They are soon out of sight,” she said with a sigh of worry and turned to leave the small garden. She often came to this garden in the palace as it was close to the House of Healing. It was a small enclosure, a garden within the palace with large open windows facing Mordor. Since Faramir and her had been told of the decision to march on Mordor they had worried for their brothers and friends but they had accepted the decision as necessary.

Faramir blocked her way and forced her to a halt.

“Why do you avoid me?” he asked pained, a hint of confusion in his voice. He had spoken with her every day since the day their hands had first touched and his heart had quickly been laid at her feet. Yet lately her walls had come up as if he had come too close, too fast and she was now trying to push him back out.

“I do not,” she denied at once but at his raised eyebrow she gave in. “I…You make me feel,” she admitted softly, looking away from him.

“Is that so bad?” he asked softly.

She nodded and raised her head to look at him. “It is when all you come to care for dies.”

“I cannot change past or future but this is now. You don’t need to suffer,” he insisted, his voice compassionate.

She shook her head, once again amazed by his gentle strength and insight. “I have lost my parents and my uncle. I loved Scott yet he was never mine to love or to mourn. What do I have left? Who else shall suffer because of me?”

He shook his head and gently lead her to a small stone bench in the garden and with pained difficultly knelt before her, letting her help him. His warm eyes met her own pained ones as he laid his hands over hers in her lap.

“He was your friend, was he not?” he asked gently and she nodded. “Then he was yours to love and yours to mourn.”

She briefly looked away from him and their intertwined hands. “I cannot risk…” her voice died away.

“Not everything is about control. I do not desire to control you. I never did and I never will,” he said sincerely.

She turned back to face him, her eyes agonized. “You do not understand. It is not my body which have kept me in sickbay beyond the time Aragorn gave me…it is my soul…my heart. I am…broken.”

He reached up and lovingly stroked her cheek. “So am I. We can heal each other…if you will but give me a chance.”

She looked hesitant at him, his warm smile threatening to be her undoing. “I…” she did not know what to say, her eyes settling on the ground as her own heart fought to get her to give in yet she wasn’t sure if she dared. She cared for him too much to see him hurt.

“Eowyn,” Faramir said seriously and with a gentle hand he turned her face back to face him. “Do you love me or will you not?”

Despite his gentleness he had such strength, such power in his soft touch. She suddenly realized this man wouldn’t be driven away, wouldn’t be broken by her. He was stronger than that. His love was stronger than that. She smiled warmly. “I shall love you.”

He smiled happily and their lips met in a brief but strong and loving kiss, promising a brighter, warmer and deeper flame of love as each day passed.

* * *

The army had been gathered and had been ready for a battle they could not win, standing outside the Black Gates. The Gates had opened and an army of Orcs had stood opposite them. It was evident to all that this battle they could not win. Nevertheless, not one soldier deserted his post, knowing that this battle had to be fought or all of Middle Earth would be lost. However, as Aragorn was about to give the signal to attack a blinding white light fell from the sky and hit the back of the Orc army, sending a shock wave of destruction through the ranks of Orcs. Aragorn, Boromir, Haldir, Eomer, Gimli, Legolas, Ororo, Rogue and Logan had quickly yelled that everyone should draw back. They had managed to only loose 290 people in the blast that had destroyed the Orc army, leaving 420 people wounded. Thanks to their greater speed and vitality no Elves had been wounded or killed in the blast. Ororo had flown up to scan the area and had confirmed that the entire Orc army had been killed. The anti climatic ending had taken some time for them to accept when they had just moments before all tried to come to terms with the knowledge that they were all about to die.

They had moved back to the city, tending to the wounded and dead but had stayed on alert. When hours had passed without any attack they had come to the conclusion that Phoenix must have died, maybe in the attack on the Orcs. Gandalf had told them that the attack had not been magical so it was logical to suspect Phoenix had done it, though why she would choose to commit an act that would take her own life as well remained a mystery to them.

Again the council had gathered and debated options. Some wanted to seek out Frodo and Sam and offer their assistance but they feared that if they did so they would only draw Sauron’s attention to the Hobbits. So they had been left to agonizing and restless waiting. Boromir had spent most of his time with Faramir or his Little Ones, happy to be given the opportunity to say a proper farewell to the Hobbits. Having said his farewell to Faramir he never said farewell again. He did however use some time to talk with Faramir and Eowyn and when alone he let his brother know that whatever his heart chose then he would approve of that choice. Too early to think of that Faramir was still happy to have Boromir’s blessing if or when the time came.

It was a difficult time for everyone, knowing that if the Hobbits failed so would all of Middle Earth. The time was hardest for Boromir’s friends. Boromir himself had come to terms with his pending death but his brother and his friends had not. Afraid to find him suddenly gone everyone tried to speak with him often and frequently but everyone also felt uncomfortable, not knowing how to react when in his presence which in turn made Boromir feel uncomfortable.

Boromir spent some time talking with Rogue who, to his pleasure and relief, was able to talk more normally with him as she had tried something similar when she had watched her grandmother pass away some years earlier, knowing she was about to die but unable to prevent it. The episode had happened when Rogue had been a young girl but talking to her grandmother had given her a sense of closure and that had taken a lot of the pain and grief away. Time and the wonder of the forgetfulness of anything painful of the young mind had ensured that the memory of her grandmother was remembered fondly and without pain. Rogue had told Boromir about her own temptation by the Ring and she ended up being able to let go of some of her guilt over the episode when Boromir had talked about his own temptation.

He spoke with Ororo about Legolas and what little he knew of Elven culture, suggesting she asked his brother who knew practically everything about the culture he admired so much. He would debate Scott and his death as well as his own pending one with Ororo, and they would talk about life, death and mourning. Ororo was one of the few of his friends who were able to relax in his company. She saw life as a circle and had long ago accepted death as a natural part of life and had now also been able to accept Scott’s parting as such, painful as it had been on her. She was connected to nature in a different way than the Elves because she was also connected to nature’s frailty and mortality.

He spent some time with Eomer, Haldir and Logan but ended up mostly debating Middle Earth’s future and battle strategies, as none of these men were good at debating emotions. He spoke with Legolas about what might lie ahead for him after his death and he admitted to his fear that Eru, his God, might not forgive him his error about the Ring. Legolas’s reply had comforted him. The Elven Prince had simply said, “If your God is a God worthy of prayer, your God will always forgive you when you ask for it, always understand…always love…Never punish, never hate, never condemn.” And Boromir knew Legolas was right and that he had nothing to fear. A deeper sense of serenity had settled over him after that.

It was on the second day after the battle that had never come to pass at the Black Gates when it happened. Boromir had just come back to the palace after visiting his Little Ones and his brother. He had gone to meet Aragorn and they had been debating Gondor’s future. The two of them now had an easy rapport and their hopes and dreams for Gondor as a safe and free nation without hate and injustice burned bright in them both. They had been seated in the library, their chairs facing each other in front of the fireplace when suddenly a white light appeared from above, its warm rays reaching Boromir.

“It is time,” Boromir said softly to Aragorn and from the surprise, shock and sadness on his face Boromir knew his friend could not see the light. He fought not to let his nervousness show but it was impossible for him not to be nervous about an unsure fate and also impossible not to mourn the life he was leaving half done. Despite having come to terms with his own demise, when it was time it still felt too soon.

“Take care of my brother, the Hobbits and Gondor. All what is precious to me I now place in your hands. Keep them safe,” Boromir asked as he rose to stand in front of his chair.

Unsure of what to do Aragorn stood as well, sorrow at seeing his friend leave evident in his face but as he realised this meant the Hobbits had won joy was also present. “I will,” he swore.

Boromir smiled in gratitude and stretched out his hand. Aragorn took it and shook it like warriors do, hand around the wrist. Their hands fell apart and time seemed to stop.

“I could have wished for no better steward of my Kingdom…and no better friend,” Aragorn said sincerely. Boromir was his closest human friend and also one of the few humans he had close contact to. A bond had formed between them, Boromir had after his resurrection shown understanding and tolerance toward a human King raised as an Elf, something few humans had and Aragorn was saddened to see him go, even though he had known this would happen all along.

Again Boromir nodded his thanks. “Happiness and long life,” Boromir wished as he felt himself begin to fade away, moving toward the warm and embracing light. In the presence of such warmth and love as what he could feel from the light that carried him away Boromir’s nervousness and regrets melted away. The light embraced him and carried him away on a wave of light and love and Boromir’s last thought was that everything would be all right, for him and for the ones he left behind. He had faith in the goodness of his own final destiny and faith in the abilities of the ones he was leaving behind.

To Aragorn it seemed as if Boromir was about to fade from existence and he had to restrain himself from not trying to make a grab for him to bind him to this life a little longer.

“You shall never be forgotten,” Aragorn promised. Before more words could be spoken Boromir was gone, faded from existence and Aragorn comforted himself with the fact that Boromir had seemed at peace when he had faded from his vision.

“Farewell…my friend,” Aragorn whispered softly to the empty air. For a few minutes he simply stood still, staring at the spot where Boromir had stood just moments before. Then he called Gandalf and Ororo to him and asked them to search for Frodo and Sam, telling them about Boromir’s death. As they left, their hearts heavy, Aragorn went to bring the sad news to Faramir and the two Hobbits. As Aragorn walked to the healing house he knew this would be one of the hardest and saddest news he ever would have to break to anyone.

* * *

It was now or never; it was time to end it all. Sam had fought his way back to Frodo and had saved him from giant spiders and Orcs alike, cruel beings that would forever haunt his dreams. Yet he had made it back to Frodo who had welcomed him back and Gollum had been driven away and that was all that mattered.

Now as they were at Mt. Doom what should have been an easy decision was suddenly not. Sam had watched with dismay as his friend fell deeper and deeper under the Ring’s evil spell, growing weaker and weaker by the hour. They had seen a bright flash of light over Mordor not long ago but unsure of what it was they had simply fought to move faster toward their destination.

Sam and Frodo had finally reached the top of Mt. Doom and had gone inside the natural cave at the top which showed a rocky bridge with melted lava all around. Frodo was now holding the Ring out over the edge of the small rocky passage in the chain he had carried it in. He was holding it over the pit of melted lava below while Sam stood a few feet away, near the entrance to the cave, watching his friend with a worried expression on his face.

“I could own the world. I could have everything!” Frodo mumbled, his eyes taking on a mad and power hungry look.

“Frodo, please. Throw it in!” Sam begged, afraid something might happen at this, the last trial, to prevent Frodo from destroying the Ring.

Frodo turned toward him, grinning evilly. “Why should I? I have everything. I can be everything! Have everything!”

Sam had known how hard Frodo was fighting the temptation of the Ring but he had never imagined it would come to this. He knew this person in front of him had little left of his friend but he would not abandon him now. He stepped closer to Frodo, so close he could touch him if he should so choose.

“Mine!” Frodo insisted, pulling the Ring away from Sam’s reach but otherwise remained where he was. The fate of the world, of the Shire, everything faded when Sam looked into the tortured, mad eyes of the friend who he would die for.

“My dearest friend,” Sam began softly, heartfelt. “If I thought the possession of the Ring would ease the agony I’ve seen grow in you since we departed Rivendell I would never ask you to give it up but the Ring is not the answer.”

“You know nothing!” Frodo insisted, unconsciously stroking the Ring in his hand as if it was a lover.

“The Ring beckons to me as well,” Sam admitted. “But I know of something which is of much more worth to me than any object of metal.”

A part of Frodo shined through as he was intrigued in spite of himself. “And what is that?”

“You,” Sam said simply, honestly. The one thing, only thing, that could push the evil whispers of the Ring back; love. Love and the lack of desire for power and material things. Sam was a simple man with a simple outlook on life and simple dreams. Life to him had never been complicated. He loved living in the Shire, quiet and far from change as it was. He loved his friend who was also his master and he loved life’s simple pleasures of food, wine and fun games to pass the time.

Frodo seemed to hesitate for a moment in the face of Sam’s honest and warm statement. No one had ever cared for him as deeply as Sam had…after all he had done to Sam, thrown him away then taken him back when Gollum had left him…after all of that Sam still thought the world of him. A warm feeling of caring and love fought to push the darkness of the Ring’s influence back.

“Sam, I…” He began not sure what else he wanted to say but he never got the chance when Gollum suddenly appeared, having followed the Hobbits, and jumped on him, trying to tear the Ring away from him.

“Mine! It’s mine! My precious!” Gollum yelled fanatically and the two of them fought. Caught up in the rage and anger of a fight Frodo forgot the warm emotions that had just begun to develop and instead fought to get the Ring for himself. Gollum had jumped up on his back and they were moving further inside the cave.

Sam watched them with a worried look, trying to find an opening to help Frodo but was afraid that if he interfered they would all fall into the pit of melted lava.

“It’s mine!” Frodo proclaimed as he managed to get the Ring off the chain he had had it in and slid it onto his finger.

“ **Noo!** ” Sam screamed in shock and frustration. Sauron would be able to find them now and from the evil look on Frodo’s face he was also able to influence the Ringbearer to a much greater degree now that Frodo wore the Ring on his flesh.

“ **Mine! Mine! Mine!** ” Gollum screamed fanatically and tried to twist the Ring off Frodo’s finger. Seeing he wasn’t succeeding Gollum simply bit Frodo’s finger clean off, making the Hobbit scream in pain.

“Frodo!” Sam yelled worried and moved toward him. Gollum looked triumphantly at the Ring and in his fascination of it forgot to have a proper grip on Frodo who stretched and threw Gollum backwards and off him, into the pit of melted lava.

Frodo sank to his knees, holding his bleeding finger, not even sparing Gollum a glance. As Sam ran to Frodo he looked over the edge at Gollum who was smiling as he was falling, holding the Ring tightly in his hands.

“My precious. It’s finally mine. My precious,” he said satisfied, lovingly before the lava consumed him and he was no more.

“I am free…the pull, the pain, has faded to nothing but a constant echo…a phantom forever in my mind,” Frodo whispered in wonder and pain as he felt Sauron’s influence fade away.

‘I cannot die! I cannot lose! I cannot!’ Frodo heard Sauron yell in his mind but to no avail. He faded from existence and Frodo was free, the pain now reduced to a more bearable level and he knew some pain would always remain as a constant reminder of what he had endured and what he had done here today; the betrayal he had almost committed.

Sam knelt beside his friend, his face filled with sympathy. He put an arm around Frodo’s back and helped him stand, wincing with him when the pain made Frodo grimace. The entire mountain shook and the cave began to give in.

“We must go now,” Sam said unnecessarily as he aided Frodo back out of the cave. Supporting his friend they moved as quickly down the mountain as possible but Frodo’s injuries were slowing them down.

“Just leave me,” Frodo groaned, pain clear in his face and voice.

“Never!” Sam vowed. They reached a small plateau and had to rest there when suddenly the mountain exploded and lava moved toward them. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the irony that they should die now, after the almost impossibly dangerous task had been completed.

“Leave,” Frodo got out and tried weakly to push Sam away from him.

“I am not leaving,” Sam insisted. He let Frodo lie down, his head resting in Sam’s lap. “I am right where I want to be,” he said softly, eyeing the coming doom of melted lava out of the corner of his eye. So, this was the end. It didn’t feel that bad now that he knew that Middle Earth was safe. He was saddened that he didn’t get to see the Shire again or know for sure that Merry and Pippin were all right but he was still content. The journey had ended and after months of hardship and none or very uneasy sleep he would have peace.

“You are a very stubborn man, Samwise Gamgee,” Frodo whispered affectionately, trying to fight the pain so that he wouldn’t lose consciousness. He didn’t want Sam to face the end alone. The least he could do was stay with him till it happened.

“That I am, Mister Frodo. That I am,” Sam said softly and stroked Frodo’s forehead, growing alarmed when he felt it was burning hot with fever. Then he remembered that they were about to die so a fever wasn’t their greatest problem. Frodo’s hand found his and he squeezed it hard, both trying to gain comfort from the simple touch.

Sam eyed the lava as it moved closer and closer and as it was to engulf Frodo and him he instinctively leaned protectively over his friend though he knew his body would not be enough to shield him. Suddenly a wave of cold air hit him and turning he saw that the nearing deadly wave of lava had frozen to ice. Relieved beyond words but puzzled as to who could be his powerful saviour Sam looked up and spotted Ororo, an obviously pregnant Ororo. She smiled down at them but her eyes reflected a deep sadness and sorrow Sam did not understand.

“We are relieved to see you are both well,” she said as she landed next to them, having frozen all the lava to ice.

“Come. Let’s take you home,” another voice said, filled with concern and love. Sam turned and saw Gandalf hovering a little over the ground on the back of a giant bird and he too had eyes that showed sadness. Sam silently reminded himself to ask them what had brought it on at a later time.

“Gandalf,” Frodo said and smiled at him. The pain and the excitement finally caught up with him and his hand went limp in Sam’s as he lost consciousness.

“Home,” Sam whispered happily and let Ororo use her power over the wind to lift them up to Gandalf.

They flew back to Gondor; Ororo helping Gandalf keep the Hobbits safe on the back of the bird. Sam stayed at Frodo’s side until he was safely put in a bed in one of the bedrooms of the palace of Minas Tirith. First then did Sam permit himself to relax and he promptly fainted from strain, fatigue and all the minor pains and aches that had grown and was now making themselves known. Gandalf and Ororo were not in doubt that Sam should be placed in the bedroom next to Frodo’s. In the midst of remembering all the losses and pain this victory had brought with them, Frodo and Sam’s endurance, love and loyalty to each other made Gandalf and Ororo also remember all the victories…all the soldiers still left standing.

It had been a bloody war with much destruction and much pain but this had been a war they had been unable to avoid. Even the pacifistic Elves and Hobbits had been drawn into it and they all knew that it would take ages before the wounds and scars of this war would fade away. However, as always in the face of grief there was only one way to go…and that was forward…forward and create something better than yesteryear to prevent a war, a grief like this from ever coming to pass again.


	34. Book 3: Chapter 9: Coming Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbuy to the X-men and welcoming a new life.

###  Chapter 9: Coming Full Circle  
  


For the joy of this hour all their sorrows, worries and griefs had melted away.

It was the day of Aragorn’s coronation and the city was at its most beautiful. Joy and happiness seemed to be almost physical objects to touch and hold. The coronation took place in Minas Tirith’s palace four months after the end of the war. Aragorn had waited until Minas Tirith and the palace resembled its old glory instead of a war tired and half destroyed city. The ceremony had been glorious with a lot of fine guests, beautiful dresses, jewellery and everything in between as everyone had dressed in their finest. It had taken Ororo and Rogue’s thoughts to a real fairytale scenario.

The ceremony had started with Faramir officially handing over office to Aragorn. Still not fully healed Faramir had been well enough to be dressed in his finest robes and kneel before Aragorn, swearing his allegiance and handing the sceptre to him, the physical symbol of his power. Aragorn had accepted the sceptre and had bid Faramir rise as he had given him the title of prince of Ithilien, as the title of steward was now no more. Thereafter Gandalf had crowned Aragorn king with a beautifully crafted silver crown.

Aragorn had walked among all his fine guests, receiving their oaths of loyalty. He had stopped before Faramir and Eowyn to talk and before Logan and Rogue. Legolas looked beautiful and eternal in light robes and a light silver tiara which made him almost seem to glow. Aragorn had smiled happily at his bond brother and Ororo who was at his side, her stomach speaking of the pending birth of their child. He had smiled in greeting at Gimli and at Eomer. He had then come to greet his adopted father and had frozen in his tracks when he had seen Arwen, thoughts of his foster father forgotten. His shock and surprise had given way to the most brilliant of smiles and all the pain of the last many months had disappeared from Aragorn’s face as he starred into the eyes of his faithful beloved who had patiently been waiting for him through all the years. Protocol had gone out the window when he had picked her up and kissed her hungrily and she had thrown her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. The couple had radiated happiness and love in the same way the sun gives off light and heat. After what seemed forever the two beloved had reluctantly drawn apart and Aragorn had continued to walk among his guests with his future queen by his side but when he saw the four Hobbits, all recently having been released from sickbay, he would not have them kneel for him, instead he knelt before them and all his guests followed suit leaving the Hobbits decidedly uncomfortable and self-conscious.

The party continued, love and joy clear in the air and for a brief moment in time the world was good and everything seemed perfect.

“There’s more passion in the young King than I would have thought,” Logan said with a teasing smile, trying not to pull at the collar of his elegantly Gondorian party clothes. Everything from his shirt to his boots had been specially made for this occasional.

“Yep, kissing again,” Rogue said with a smile towards Aragorn and Arwen who were in the other end of the large room as she took a sip from her goblet of wine. She eyes returned to Logan and she smiled warmly at her husband. “Stop fiddling, lov. You look amazing.”

Logan stopped at once and smiled seductively at her. “Yeah?” He put an arm around her waist. “So do you. Like a princess.” His eyes wandered from her beautiful dress, her gloves, the jewellery around her neck and wrists, borrowed from Aragorn, her elegant hairdo and then back to her face. “Maybe we could leave this party and…”

“This is quite amazing. Like witnessing a moment in history,” Ororo said as she came to them, one hand on Legolas’ arm. Her dress was white and looked like snow with glitter of diamonds on it. She also had jewellery around her neck, wrists and ears, all gifts from Legolas. The dress had a bond below her breasts, showing her large stomach. Despite her pregnancy or maybe because of it she looked amazing and Legolas looked more eternal than ever, a proud and happy smile on his lips as the two of them moved through the room with amazing beauty and grace as if carried on an invisible wind.

“You’re ruining my seduction here, ‘Ro,” Logan complained good-natured as he smiled at her.

“I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” she teased and he grinned.

“My friends,” Haldir’s voice reached them and the four people turned politely to him. They had greeted several of Haldir’s brothers but hadn’t yet managed to find him in the crowd of people. The golden elf was stunning in his party dress and managed to look very masculine in his light clothes, which might be because he didn’t wear any large jewellery in his hair like almost all the other elves, male or female, did. At his side stood a brown haired elf. Beautiful, lightly boned and elegant as all elves he was different because he was so dark. He had brown hair that reached his shoulders and deep brown and expressive eyes. His skin was also golden and not the snow white colour all the other elves present had. He was clearly from another part of the Elven grounds. He wore a small single golden band around his brow and hair and darker clothes than most of the other elves. He was stunning and seemed exquisite, probably due to his, for an Elf at least, unusual colouring.

“Haldir,” Ororo said with a warm smile. “It is good to see you.”

“I think I owe you thanks for saving my life during the battle of Minas Tirith,” Logan said warmly. Haldir had returned with news to the Golden Wood about wounded, dead and so on and hadn’t been in the city much since the end of the War and in the confusion Logan hadn’t had time to thank the Elf yet.

“There is no debt between friends,” Haldir said easily and all the X-men noticed the Elf seemed happier than before. His lips kept curving up as if he had to force himself not to smile all the time. Seeing him now it was hard to recall he had been so emotionally closed for most of their time together. The dark Elf at his side smiled at them and cleared his throat with an amused expression. Haldir turned to him and his eyes were warm and soft. “Allow me to introduce my… melda,” Haldir said, having searched for the right word but had to give up and gave the Elfish one instead. The X-men didn’t understand the word but it was clear this man was important to their friend and that was all they needed to know. They shook hands with the dark Elf while Legolas nodded in friendly greeting, clearly knowing the Elf already.

“A pleasure,” Rogue said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ororo said.

“What they said,” Logan said with a grin as he shook the dark Elf’s hand.

“Thank you for keeping Haldir safe. I was at the far Northern front with Elrond during the War and feared the worst,” the dark Elf said heartfelt.

“Hey, no worries. Saving damsels, worlds and Elven commanders are our speciality,” Logan grinned cockily before Rogue elbowed him. “Ahem…Boromir actually deserves the most thanks,” Logan added, his voice and face serious and showing his sadness at the man’s death.

“I shall visit his grave then and thank him for keeping my happiness and my life, safe, for without him I would not wish to go on living,” the dark Elf said honestly, his sincerity reflected in his eyes. They all smiled at him, moved by his heartfelt words and he nodded at them, “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He looked to Haldir and smiled, his gaze soft and loving. “Nîn meleth?” he asked and indicated the room of guests, many of which were waiting to speak with them and hear news of the rebuilding of the lands and the Golden Wood in particular. Haldir held a high position in the Golden Wood and was a nobleman and statesman to be remembered and thus it was important to the nobility and higher middle-class present to hear his opinions and stay in his good grace.

Haldir nodded at the two couples in parting as he moved away with the dark Elf. They moved through the crowd together, one golden and one dark, a beautiful pair to spot, their beauty and easy grace combined with the strength and power they, as warriors, seemed to radiate, was breathtaking and made many a woman turn to look after them but then most women present would eye the beautiful Elves longingly.

“Remind me why I never took an Elven lover,” Rogue said with a wishful look after the two handsome men.

“Because you love me?” Logan teased, embracing her from behind, his arms closing around her waist.

“Nah…can’t be why. Must be because none wanted me,” Rogue teased back, leaning against him.

“Then they’re blind and I’m a very lucky man,” Logan said with a grin and turned her around in his embrace so they were face to face, kissing the top of her head.

The day ended as beautifully as it had started, with love, dance and happiness reflected in all’s eyes. It was a day to remember. It was the end of an era and a beginning of a new one.

Soon after his coronation Aragorn finally married Arwen and his smile of happiness had stayed on his lips for weeks to follow. Elrond had given his daughter away while Legolas had been best man and yet another large and happy party had followed.

* * *

Six months had passed since the War of the Ring had ended. Six months since Scott’s death, Boromir’s death and Phoenix’s demise.

With all the losses they had all suffered, moving on had seemed impossible but time had moved them forward anyway. Slowly lands were being rebuilt as the dead were being mourned and the scars of war were trying to heal. On a political level a lot of changes had happened, many of them influenced by the personal changes and choices made by the leaders of different countries. Most Elves had chosen to stay yet some had left. Elrond had stayed for his daughter’s sake, reinforcing Rivendell’s strength and importance. Galadriel and most of the Elves of the Golden Wood had stayed as well as had Legolas’ family and most of the Mirkwood Elves. Gondor and Rohan, the countries that had suffered most during the war, were being rebuilt with amazing haste, getting help from the Elves. The one who felt most isolated had been Gimli who was now alone, the only Dwarf left, but Legolas had kept his word and the two friends had worked to banish Gimli’s sorrow and loneliness in the light of a new future.

As soon as Gandalf and Ororo had returned to Gondor with Frodo and Sam, Faramir had been appointed the new Steward of Gondor. Still in sickbed Aragorn was the practical leader but until it was the right time for his coronation Gondor couldn’t be without an official leader. Faramir was only too happy to let Aragorn tend to Gondor’s affairs, having complete faith in the future King. His grief at his brother’s death had almost taken his own life as his body had refused to heal and he had cradled his sorrow the way an Elf would. Eowyn’s gentle encouragement, support and understanding had brought him through his darkest hour as Faramir realized that he wasn’t alone. He had been so used to having only his brother and no one else. So used to being disregarded and looked down on by everyone but him that he had thought Boromir’s death would mean the end of the only love and support he had ever had. Eowyn had patiently proven him wrong and had helped him through his painful physical recovery as well as through his grief and his nightmares. She had helped his mental healing after his torture at Phoenix’s hands as he tried to come to terms with the fact that his own father had been witness to his agonizing ordeal and had wanted to kill him. Finding a safe haven in her, a new focus point in his life, Eowyn and him announced their engagement five months after Boromir’s death, when Faramir was declared physically healed. The fact that they did this together instead of Faramir doing it alone spoke volumes of the equal relationship they shared, a unique thing among the human race of Middle Earth.

Having been given a new title by Aragorn and a new position, as the King’s chief advisor, it was possible for Faramir to ask Eomer if he was allowed to court his sister. Eomer had smiled at him when he had asked and said that Eowyn had already talked to him and had said that if her brother didn’t approve of her choice she would simply go through with it anyway. Faramir had smiled at this characteristic show of strength from the woman who had stolen his heart and when they had announced their engagement the month after Eomer had been the one who had cheered the loudest, knowing his sister had finally found a man who would support her instead of trying to tame and cage her.

Two other events had dominated the passing months. One was Legolas and Ororo’s official signing of their marriage papers to make their marriage official in the Elven nations and the other was the birth of their child; neither had been easy. Legolas’s father, though intrigued and fascinated by Ororo’s beauty and power, was hesitant to allow a human not of noble blood to wed his son. While such issues had been overlooked during the war they began to become important again now that peace had been restored. As prince of Mirkwood Legolas had obligations and a position of power and his father was not happy to see that shared with Ororo. Legolas’s father hadn’t been the only one who had been concerned. Aragorn had tried to discourage Legolas, reminding him that Logan, Rogue and Ororo were still trying to find a way back to their own world. Aragorn’s only concern, as always, was his friend’s health, happiness and not to mention his life but the young Elven prince would hear nothing of it. Logan and Rogue had been concerned as well but when Ororo had said she was happy and what truth was, that they might be here forever, they had wished her luck. The papers had been signed after Logan had done some claw showing and growling at Legolas’s father…while the groom wasn’t present of course.

Almost six months after the battle Ororo gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The baby quickly became a symbol of new life and hope for all of Gondor who had taken a quick liking to the unusually coloured woman who lived with an Elven prince at the palace.

The palace in Minas Tirith had become a focus point for many of the people who had fought together in the war. Haldir had stayed there a month’s worth of time and had then returned to the Golden Wood but he would often come and visit. They had agreed not to hold a second funeral for Scott as none of them thought they would be able to handle saying goodbye a second time. However, Aragorn had arranged a beautiful and grand burial for Boromir three months after his death though they had no body. Merry and Pippin had been devastated at Boromir’s death and had cried for the man who had been their protector and friend and so much more but even so, the funeral had brought them all a sense of closure. Even Haldir’s normally stoic face had shattered into a look of deep grief when he had paid his final respects to the man who had saved his life. Merry and Pippin had left for the Shire after the funeral with Sam and Frodo who had been declared physically healed yet both, most noticeably Frodo, would always carry within them scars from the evil of the One Ring that nothing could heal.

Logan had been the driving force behind trying to find a way back for Ororo, Rogue and himself and through it all Scott’s absence, the lack of his calm leadership and control, had been sorely missed. Together with Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Faramir and Eowyn when they weren’t visiting her brother who was now the new King of Rohan, the remaining X-men lived at the palace in Minas Tirith, which was frequently visited by old friends from the war. In between helping with the rebuilding they would talk about how to get back. Though Ororo did her best she found she was happy here which was why Logan was the one pushing them forward. He had no great desire to remain in Middle Earth forever and neither had Rogue. Even living like a princess had its downsides. Taking a warm bath took forever as the water had to be warmed by the servants. There was no radio or TV and entertainment of any kind was very rare. Also travelling took forever unless they could get Ororo to fly them somewhere and as her pregnancy had advanced she had not had the power to do so. There had even been a point where Ororo’s pregnancy had brought her so much pain that despite Ororo’s distaste for the idea, since she really wanted the baby, an abortion had been talked about as the possible only solution to save her life. Though humans and Elves could get offspring it was the humans of Middle Earth they had mated with. Most women of Middle Earth were strong women, used to a hard life. Ororo was delicately boned and bearing the child of an interracial encounter might be more than she could handle. Luckily they had been proved wrong, despite the fact that Elves were pregnant 15 months and she went 12, overdue for a human but too early for an Elf. The lack of medical equipment had made the birth a living hell for Ororo with nothing to take her mind off the pain. Though when she had held her baby in her arms she had forgotten about it immediately. The proud parents had decided to call the baby Aigle Katherine Ann. Aigle meant light in Greek for she was their light after darkness and Katherine Ann had been Scott’s deceased mother’s name and Ororo had wished to remember her fallen friend in this way. Legolas and she had agreed that if the baby had been a boy one of his names would have been Scott.

Logan’s thoughts returned from the past when he reached the palace after having helped rebuilding some houses at the east end of the city.

“Honey, I’m home,” Logan called playfully as two guards had opened the front door to the palace for him, letting him into the impressive front hall. He stood looking up toward the grand staircase and had to admit that the reconstruction work now almost finished on the palace was magnificently done. The palace was no longer the dark and grey massive building it had been. It now shined with life and colour, having been restored to stand as a symbol of Gondor’s grandeur and glory.

“Logan!” Rogue yelled happily, grinning widely as she appeared at the top of the stairs and ran down and into Logan’s arms who smiled and spun her around before he put her down and kissed the top of her head ever so softly.

“Missed me?” he asked softly, half teasing.

“Always,” she replied and hugged him close, careful that her chin touched only his shirt. When first she had seen Logan in the finer, more regal robes he had been given after the battle she had thought he looked strange, used to seeing him in the plain versions of Middle Earth clothes. However, now she thought he looked like a prince and her, dressed in yet another long dress with long tight sleeves, a fairytale princess.

“Logan, my husband bid me say that he wishes to discuss the progress of the reconstruction of the eastern part of Gondor with you in the library before dinner,” Ororo said as she appeared at the head of the stairs, holding her daughter safe in her arms. Dressed all in white with diamonds around her neck, in her hair and ears, she looked every inch the goddess she had been thought to be.

“Okay. I’ll go see him now then.” Logan pressed one more kiss to Rogue’s hair before he with a playful gesture kissed her gloved hand and gave her a little bow. She laughed as she recalled the diplomacy and tact lessons they had all been given a few weeks back now that the political game was coming back as the main power in Middle Earth instead of brute force.

Ororo flew slowly down with Aigle in her arms and landed gracefully beside the couple.

“Hey darlin’. Have you been good to your mom and your Aunt Marie?” Logan asked the small baby, his eyes and voice softening as he looked at her. She grinned at him and made a noise as she reached up her small hands toward him. Aigle had pointed ears, both not as prominent as Legolas’ but her skin was a soft and beautiful warm brown colour which alone would bring her a long line of suitors. She seemed to be growing normally for a human so they couldn’t say yet if she had gained her father’s immortality.

“She has been wonderful,” Ororo said with a mother’s pride shining in her eyes.

“But we need to get back home soon,” Rogue complained. “It’s boring here. All I’m expected to do is sew or pick flowers or paint or something like that.”

“Didn’t you and ‘Ro help rebuild the houses to the west?” Logan asked, letting Aigle play with a finger on his right hand. Ororo was regaining her strength and helped fly debris away and move heavy objects with her mutant abilities.

“Yes but there wasn’t much I could do,” Rogue admitted. She didn’t regret she had given up the powers the Ring had given her but at times she would realize that had she had those magical powers she would have been much more useful.

Sensing her thoughts Logan added, “Faramir told me yesterday that he really appreciated your help on the yearly state budgets for Gondor.”

“Yeah…” She was unconvinced. Since they were now all living at the palace they would all eat together so they had all gotten to know each other better and she knew how sensitive and kind hearted Faramir was. He would have asked her to help him to make her feel better and from what she had seen she doubted he had really needed her help.

“We did build Aigle a pram earlier today. Or began on it,” Ororo said helpfully.

Rogue frowned a little. “I’m still not sure if we ought to give this culture too much of our knowledge. Prams probably wouldn’t have been discovered for hundreds of years…”

“We are still not sure why we were brought here in the first place,” Ororo reminded her. “I think we can safely say that we were not sent back when our purpose, to help win the War, was over for we are still here.”

“I talked to Gandalf again the other day and he insists he neither has the knowledge or the power to send us back nor to have brought us here in the first place. His theory is that Middle Earth itself, the spirits and the magic in this Earth, in every living thing in Middle Earth, intensified his silent plea for warriors to come and help defend Middle Earth and that brought us here…the best defence a large but still limited magical energy source could find,” Logan explained.

“I don’t suppose he can tap into this universal energy again?” Rogue asked, by now used to debating magic as a matter of fact instead of a fantasy element.

“He claims he can’t.”

“You believe him?”  
  


“I see no reason for him to lie now when the War is over.”

“It would help our case if we knew for sure where we are,” Ororo said thoughtfully, absently letting Aigle play with her long white hair.

“I know,” Logan sighed. They had talked about this many times before. “I think we covered all the options the other day: parallel universe, another planet, Earth’s past or alternative past…I think we even talked about the possibility that we were living an illusion forced on us by a powerful telepath or that we or one of us were simply mad…or dreamin’.”

“There must be something we have overlooked,” Rogue mused.

“The only mysterious thing I remember is when Galadriel told me I would be the bridge between two worlds. She repeated this at Aragorn’s and Arwen’s wedding,” Ororo said, most of her mind on her daughter as she grinned at her and the small baby happily made noises that the new mother tried her best to see if they sounded like a word. While she spoke English and at times Swahili, her native language, with her child Legolas would speak Elfish, or rather his Elfish dialect as she had learnt that like Chinese it wasn’t really one language but many different ones. She hadn’t yet mastered Legolas’ native tongue but she practised. On the other hand he hadn’t mastered Swahili either.

“We must assume there is some kind of logic to all this. After all there were factors to our advantage here…we look like the humans of Middle Earth and we all speak English,” Rogue said, thinking.

“Maybe we just think we all speak English,” Ororo thought out loud.

“Bridge between two worlds…We should bring her here and ask her to explain,” Logan suggested his eyes on the baby.

“Yeah…”Rogue began when suddenly an idea hit her. “Of course! That’s it!” She yelled excited.

“What is, darlin’?” Logan asked puzzled as both Ororo and him looked surprised at her.

“The bridge between two worlds… Galadriel didn’t mean Ororo. She meant the baby and she didn’t mean a bridge between humans and Elves because that would be Aragorn and Arwen and she didn’t mean between us as strangers and them as native to this land because we were never supposed to stay here for good. She meant Aigle! Aigle is the bridge between two worlds,” Rogue explained excitedly.

“Which two worlds?” Logan asked, a smile beginning to spread over his lips. He thought he already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

“Middle Earth and Earth….their home and ours. When Gandalf spoke of magic in every living thing in Middle Earth that included Aigle. Somehow she must possess some kind of energy or magic because of her mixed heritage which can safely connect the two worlds.”

Ororo and Logan were silent for some time. “It does seem reasonable,” Ororo admitted with some reluctance. She didn’t want to face the choice a chance to go home would mean but she would never lie to her friends either.

Logan smiled widely. “You’re a genius, baby!” he said and gave her a big embrace before he drew back. “My wife’s a fuckin’ genius,” he declared to the world with pride shining in his eyes, making Rogue blush at his openly admiring stare and making the nearby guards smile slightly yet they were by now used to unusual behaviour from the three strangers.

Logan looked up toward the first floor, in the direction of Aragorn’s study where Gandalf would often be, debating matters of state with the King. “Gandalf, where are you, you old devil?” He yelled happily. “Come here! We have an idea!”

* * *

“Now, remember…I cannot guarantee this will work,” Gandalf warned for the nth time at least.

“We know, we know,” Logan replied and made a dismissive hand gesture as if it was of no consequence.

Two months had passed since Rogue had voiced her idea and in those months everyone had gotten busy. Gandalf had felt there was an acceptable margin of error to the idea but, as he had repeated, he wasn’t sure if it would work. During the two months he had worked to figure out how exactly such energy as what Rogue had suggested could be manipulated. Aragorn had sent for Haldir who had contacted Galadriel but the Elven Queen had said she didn’t know how it worked. She had simply seen in a vision that through Ororo there would be a bridge between two worlds. Her visions weren’t precise enough to help them with the hows and whys.

Gandalf had gotten the idea to try and use a mixture of his and Rogue’s powers. Rogue would absorb a little of the baby’s powers as Gandalf’s magic was touching her aura. In that moment when Rogue absorbed some of the baby’s powers Gandalf would mould the energy and seek the assistance of all the energy around him in Middle Earth to help him mould and form the energy to create the same kind of inter-dimensional portal that had brought the X-men to Middle Earth. Gandalf couldn’t get the energy out of Aigle himself but the plan wasn’t without risks. If the baby had no powers, which no one, neither Elf or wizard had been able to say with certainty, then Rogue’s touch could be deadly. Furthermore, if that happened and Gandalf tapped into an energy of death he himself would be in danger as could Rogue be if she could not control her powers and ended up absorbing the baby’s death.

Ororo and Legolas had both opposed the plan, fearful foremost for their baby’s life and secondly for Rogue and Gandalf’s health. However, Rogue had raised a valid point when she had asked about the danger of them all remaining in Middle Earth. They did not belong here. What if Middle Earth or their own world was or would suffer from this displacement? Even if this was not the case, as Ororo had mentioned, they had friends they had left behind, families…They had a cause that still needed to be fought for. If they never returned and their own world would simply pretend they had died what about the fight for equal rights for all? For humans and mutants in all their diversity? With Scott and Ororo gone so were the X-men’s commander and second in command. With Logan gone the X-men lost their greatest warrior. With Jean gone Xavier had lost his closest assistant in his political battle for equal rights. And finally with Rogue gone Xavier had lost one of his best supporters among the younger generation. All this put together could mean that the changes they had fought to bring about might never happen. Their own world could change dramatically and not for the better.

On a more personal note Rogue’s only hope for finding something to help her control her mutation was in their own world and both Logan and her had grown very tired of staying in a world which for all intents and purposes was still in the Middle Ages. Though it seemed nice looking at the life of a Middle Age royalty like they were being treated Middle Age royalty still had far less comforts than a normal Western middleclass family and there were huge issues of breach of human rights and lack of equality everywhere despite Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas and Eomer’s positive reactions to equal rights. Especially Faramir was pushing for change but a world couldn’t and didn’t change overnight. No one wanted to give up power and the nobility certainly didn’t like the idea of sharing just a fraction of their power with the commoners, vetoing almost all the suggestions Faramir would bring before the council for change. There was also the fact that Middle Earth had no dentists, little medicine, no hospitals and people would die from illnesses and epidemics that had died out long ago on Earth. The average living age here was around fifty for the nobility and often only thirty-five for the peasants who with their hard life worked themselves to death. Added to it came the daily small irritations which by each passing day would seem more and more obvious to the X-men, especially Logan and Rogue who no longer had any reason to try and see the good sides of their unwilling stranding. There were no toilets, no bathrooms, no female hygiene items, no indoor plumbing or heat and of course no electronic devices of any kind.

In the end the decision became apparent when strange storms and tornadoes began to raze the east of Gondor out of season. Though it didn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with their staying in Middle Earth it was the most likely theory since the hurricanes were out of Ororo’s control and Gandalf could not control them either. It was reasonable to assume that Earth would also be affected, maybe also with growing violent weather or an even worse disaster.

However, knowing they had to leave and then doing so wasn’t easy. They now had friends here and Ororo had even more than that; she had a husband and a child. Leaving Legolas could mean his death yet staying could mean the death of two worlds. Despite their desire to remain together both Ororo and Legolas were acutely aware of their obligations to their worlds. However, despite Legolas’s acceptance that he might die, claiming and meaning that the few months he had had with Ororo was enough, Ororo would not give up without a fight. She would not let the man she loved die. She had seen too much death already. She had consulted Aragorn, Arwen, Haldir, Elrond and any other Elf she could get her hands on. They had explained to her that there existed a magical, almost mental bond between an Elf and his or her chosen life mate. That bond was, unless under extreme situations, only breakable in death. If Ororo left, her soul would leave as well and it was the soul that Elves connected with; not their physical appearance and bodies. This was how Elves could marry other races of any gender. They most often married humans as Elves and humans had most contact but some had bonded with wizards and a few with Dwarfs despite the large difference in their values. Dwarfs with their obsession with gold would often mean that an Elf would not find such a soul desirable. Still, it was this searching for love, for someone to share eternity with, that meant that Elves looked for a soul mate where physical appearance, which included race and gender, had no importance. Beautiful of appearance themselves they had no need for anything else but a beautiful soul in the person they chose to share eternity with. However, this also meant that Elves connected very strongly with their lover when they had first found the soul that was perfect for them. So without the presence of Ororo’s soul Legolas could whither and die since their marriage was still so new and he wouldn’t have had time to try and form a mental shield to help him without her presence. She had found a solution which had made her smile and cry at the same time. If she left Aigle with Legolas in Middle Earth instead of bringing her across which they had both originally agreed upon the parental bond Legolas had with their daughter could probably save him. There was enough of Ororo’s soul in their child for him to cling to Aigle. Yet the thought of parting from Legolas and her child was tearing Ororo apart and she had become more and more miserable, despite her attempts to enjoy the little time she had left with her family.

When the day had come when they would attempt to travel back it was way too soon for all of them, most of all for Ororo. They had known the date three weeks in advance but it was still too soon. The day had started with a mixture of excitement and sadness as Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Eomer’s fiancée, Gandalf, Haldir, Haldir’s melda who they had met a few times now, Gimli, Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin had all joined them for breakfast in the palace’s large banquet hall. The Hobbits, Haldir and his melda had arrived in Gondor a few days earlier to see the X-men off. The meal that morning had been delicious, the conversation and company bittersweet, made even more so by the absence of Boromir and Scott. After the meal the X-men had chosen what clothes to leave in and each had chosen something that reminded them of the joys of Middle Earth instead of all the blood, pain and death they had also seen here.

Legolas had had Faramir, who was a great painter, paint several paintings of Ororo so their daughter would always remember her. He himself knew he would never forget his wife and needed no painting to remind him of the soul she carried within, the soul he had fallen in love with. Faramir had given Ororo a small picture, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, of Legolas as a parting gift. The dress Ororo had chosen to wear as she travelled home was long and white and had been a gift from Aragorn and Arwen. It was also the dress she had worn when Legolas and her had been writing their marriage papers.

“Are everyone ready?” Gandalf asked and looked around at the three X-men, taking everyone’s thoughts back to the present. They had moved to stand outside in the palace’s beautiful garden, the Middle Earth residents standing off to one side with Gandalf standing with the X-men and Ororo holding her baby in her arms. Legolas stood just beside her, his arm loose around her waist but this simple show of public affection spoke volumes of the sorrow the Elven Prince was feeling.

“Now that we’re here…I’m not sure I can do it,” Ororo whispered brokenly, fighting to keep her tears at bay. It wasn’t fair that she should leave all this behind. Her sense of honour and loyalty caught up with her and she felt ashamed for her thoughts. At least she was alive; Scott, Boromir, Jean…So many would never return. Would never do anything again.

“I’m ready,” Ororo said loudly, meeting her friends’ worried looks head on, a determined look in her eyes. Rogue moved towards Aigle, a look of deep sympathy on her face as she looked at Ororo. She removed her glove on her right hand and moved it towards Aigle, not touching her. Like Ororo she was dressed in a long dress, this one was green, and had been a gift from Eowyn after Rogue a few weeks back had won her first sword fight against her without the aid of the powers she had borrowed from Gandalf.

“You are certain this will not hurt my daughter?” Legolas asked worried, his eyes going to Gandalf.

“There is a risk to everything but Rogue and I have tried to practice on her husband and it has gone well,” Gandalf calmed him and Logan couldn’t help but grin a bit at this. Rogue had been reluctant to try taking a bit of Logan’s powers and then transfer them to Gandalf but Logan had been insistent; his healing factor would protect him and it would help her in taking just enough from Aigle without harming her when the time came.

“Aigle does not have a warrior’s strength,” Legolas reminded him but stepped away a little from Ororo anyway, having faith in Gandalf and knowing that Rogue would rather die than hurt his little girl.

“I’ll be very careful,” Rogue promised, having the fear herself that she might hurt Aigle. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “On your signal,” she said to Gandalf who nodded.

Gandalf moved to stand beside Rogue, preparing himself to manipulate the magic around him, closing his eyes and reaching out to touch the magic of Middle Earth, asking nature Herself for help. After some time which Ororo and Legolas had used to share an almost desperate embrace, Legolas’ arms closing around Ororo from behind, Gandalf opened his eyes.

“Now,” he ordered and Rogue quickly touched Aigle’s cheek with the faintest touch before quickly removing her hand. Gandalf closed his eyes again as he found the energy Rogue had harvested and began to mould and fold it. Rogue felt like someone was tearing at her heart and she gave a yell of pain. It hadn’t hurt this badly when Gandalf had taken Logan’s powers from her and she assumed it was the baby’s Elven, and therefore to her foreign, powers that made it hurt so much.

Logan was at her side at once, his strong arms holding her close. “Shh…it’ll be okay, baby,” he whispered, trying to be strong for her but her pain was tearing him apart.

“Oh, God!” she yelled as another spasm of pain hit her and her legs gave way under her. Logan eased them both to the ground and she clung to him as if for dear life. He stroked her hair and mumbled nonsense words of comfort. It seemed like forever but was probably only a few minutes when Rogue lifted her face from his shoulder and wiped the tears of pain away from her eyes.

“I’m fine now,” she assured him and smiled, trying to ease the worry and concern she could easily read in his eyes and on his face. He nodded relieved and kissed her still gloved hand. She turned around in his embrace and looked at Legolas and Ororo, her eyes focusing on Aigle.

“How is she?” she asked worried.

Ororo looked down at her daughter and smiled fondly. “She’s alright. She didn’t seem to feel any pain.”

“Thank God,” Rogue mumbled and felt like she could breathe easier. Hurting Aigle had been her greatest fear about this plan.

All eyes turned to Gandalf and they heard a sudden sharp ‘swoosh’ sound. Three meters from Gandalf he had created a strange hole the size of a door that seemed to be made up of standing whitish, almost glowing water.

“Wow,” Rogue mumbled, saying what they were all thinking. She made a movement in Logan’s arms to indicate she wanted up and he rose, helping her to stand. She picked up her glove that she had taken off to touch the baby on the way and put it back on. She gave him a smile as thanks and to indicate she was really all right before she returned to stare at the glowing portal, Logan’s arms closing around her waist and she leaned back against him.

“Are we sure this will lead us to Earth?” Ororo asked, her arms instinctively having tightened around her baby in a protective gesture.

“No but it is the most reliable conclusion. I felt Aigle’s energy help create this portal and her energy was foreign to me,” Gandalf explained seriously.

For a few minutes no one moved, as if everyone were fascinated by the magic they saw and the fact that they were finally here, saying goodbye yet not before they had been forced to say a final goodbye to so many friends on the way. Because of their losses and the people they would part from, it was a bittersweet moment.

“Well…let’s get going,” Logan said, releasing Rogue from his hold and going toward the portal.

They had all said their farewell to the others but Logan stopped in front of Gandalf. “I owe you one,” he said and offered his hand. Gandalf smiled a little and shook it, knowing those words covered a multiple of meanings like, I now think of you as my friend, or as Wolverine would say, a member of his pack, people he cared for and protected.

“You have all done so much for us that the titles and gold Elessar King gave you can never fully convey our gratitude. Middle Earth will miss you,” Gandalf said heartfelt as Logan drew back.

“Yeah, well…” Logan looked uncomfortable in the face of such praise. They could only take very few objects with them; only what they could have on their persons. Dressed in his finest clothes from Middle Earth, a set Rogue enjoyed to see him in, saying he looked like a prince, Logan had only taken a small Elven dagger and three coins from Gondor with him; one proclaiming Boromir as Steward which had never been in use but had been only a few prints made in his honour after his death, one from Faramir’s short reign and one from Aragorn’s kingship. “Just tell Faramir that I’ll be back to let him taste my claws if he does go through with his idea of creating statues of us all,” Logan complained good natured.

“I will,” Gandalf agreed, by now used to Logan’s way of teasing and knowing that Faramir would make the tribute statues anyway as it was his way of feeling connected to his friends. He had already started working on a statue of his brother, his dedication in wishing to have it turn out perfectly would probably mean he would work on it for a couple of years. However, when done there was no doubt that it would be the statue that touched the viewer the most of all the statues in the royal garden.

Rogue came to Logan and her right hand found his and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ororo?” Rogue gently prompted and Ororo reluctantly drew out of Legolas’ embrace. She planted a soft kiss to Aigle’s forehead, tears falling down her cheeks as she handed her daughter to Legolas who took the precious bundle and held her close to his heart.

“Nîn meleth…My beloved wife,” Legolas said softly as he gave her a long kiss, trying to put all his love and all his pain of her departure into that single gesture.

Ororo gently stroked his cheek. “How can I leave now when I have just found everything I have always been looking for?” she whispered, her voice betraying the agony she felt within.

“I ask myself the same but we cannot let personal desires bring our worlds to ruin, no matter how hard that is,” Legolas replied, his eyes and voice reflecting his own turmoil. Their eyes locked and they knew everything had already been said…there was nothing left to do or say. Ororo forced herself to turn away and with determined steps and tears down her cheeks she reached Logan and Rogue. She could read their concern easily and fought to put up a brave front as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

“I’m alright,” she assured but fooled no one.

“It is time,” Gandalf said and Logan nodded.

“Let’s go,” he simply said and holding Rogue’s hand he moved to the tunnel. There was no pull from it; it was like standing before a mirror of glass. Rogue’s free hand found Ororo’s right hand, intending to keep the grip on her husband and her friend through the tunnel. Logan was just about to take the step that would take him through the tunnel when Ororo tore her hand to herself.

“No!” she protested loudly. Logan turned back toward her and she came to him, standing face to face with him.

“’Ro?” he questioned.

“Please understand, my friend,” she begged. “I see the life I will lead back on Earth and I see myself as alone and lonely as I was before. I will never marry, never have children…never find anyone new to love. I will die alone as I will have lived alone.”

“You will find someone,” Logan protested.

She shook her head. “No.” She foresaw his protest and held up a hand to stop his words before they were spoken. “Do not disagree with me; I know the truth of my words.”

“What are you saying?” Rogue asked concerned. Ororo turned to look at her younger friend and gave her a small smile.

“I have more reasons to stay than to go. Scott is dead as is Jean. They were my closest friends. Unlike you I do not travel home with my beloved…I leave my family behind.”

“I wish you to be happy even if it means I can never see you again but what about the growing storms?” Rogue asked.

“Maybe it is enough you two leave. Maybe I am now a part of Middle Earth. All the Elves I have met have told me my connection to the Earth reminds them of their own,” Ororo suggested hopefully.

“There is also the theory we talked about some time ago…” Logan said thoughtfully. At Rogue and Ororo’s questioning look he elaborated, “Our idea that maybe we are in the past so that maybe Scott and Jean will be alive when we return because they cannot die before they were born. This would then apply to you too,” he said to Ororo. “When you have lived a full life with Legolas you would still die long before you were born and would be alive in our own time. To Rogue and myself, it would be as if you stepped through the portal with us.” His logical explanation made Ororo fondly remember why Scott had always listened to Logan when he did in fact consider his options instead of letting his animal side control his actions and outbursts.

“The portal would in essence kill us so we could be reborn in our own time,” Rogue concluded.

“Something like that,” Logan agreed.

“It is just a theory,” Ororo said but hope was in her eyes and voice.

“’Ro, everything about this is nothin’ but theories,” Logan reminded her gently.

“Logan, I cannot hold the portal open much longer,” Gandalf warned, his voiced strained by the effort and Logan nodded his understanding to him.

“I can’t say I understand how you can choose to live like this, give up so much but love…Love I understand,” Logan said warmly, his eyes sweeping over Rogue who smiled back at him. “I understand all the trials, all the rules you’ll break for love.”

“I know,” she said simply, knowing that Logan and Rogue would one day, as they grew older, have to deal with the fact that they would most likely never have children, never even have sex and that Rogue would die many, many years before Logan.

“I wish you would come with us but you must make your own decision and I’ll support it, no matter what it is. If all things fail maybe you can somehow create a new portal you could enter,” Logan suggested, not sure if that was possible without Rogue but it might be.

“I could be risking the fate of two worlds. How would I ever be able to live with that? I would know how Middle Earth would fare but not Earth,” she protested half-heartedly.

“If you left you would know how Earth was but never Middle Earth,” Logan gently reminded her. “Besides, as said, we don’t know if leaving will end the storms here in Middle Earth. It might worsen them. We don’t know if all of us needs to leave or just some of us. Every decision has equally many unknowns.”

“Follow your heart,” Rogue advised and Ororo smiled before her eyes settled on Aigle’s in her father’s arms. Aigle reached out her arms toward her mother, a happy smile on her face as she mumbled nonsense words.

“I…” She knew what she wanted but she felt bad just considering it.

“’Ro, I’ve never seen you do anything for yourself. I’ve never seen you be selfish…There would be nothing wrong with being selfish now…just once,” Logan said softly, guessing her thoughts.

She smiled at him and hugged him close, her decision made. “I will return. If the storms do not settle down I will leave as well, one way or the other,” Ororo vowed. If the storms settled down her natural death should bring her back. If not everything would already be lost due to Scott and Jean’s deaths in Middle Earth so she had to believe her death would set things right. Therefore, if they could not recreate the portal she knew she need only die to save both worlds. It would be a death she would not fear as her sense of duty and her feeling of guilt would make it an easily made sacrifice.

“Take care and be happy,” Rogue said as she hugged Ororo as well. Logan again took Rogue’s hand and Rogue waved to Faramir, Aragorn and the others who had remained at a respectful distance.

Legolas went to Ororo, tears like pearls glimmering in his eternal eyes as he smiled, his joy written all over his face. He balanced their daughter with one hand, embracing Ororo with the other, holding her close. She laid her arms around his neck and breathed in his scent, at peace with her decision.

“This time around try to play nice and don’t go picking up any more glittering objects,” Logan yelled and earned a heartfelt laugh from Gimli. His eyes softened when they fell on Ororo and her small family. “See you around,” he simply said and smiled at her before he stepped through the portal, a firm grip on Rogue’s hand.

“Bye. Be happy,” Rogue said before she too disappeared inside the portal. When both X-men were gone from view the portal closed itself and silence settled over the garden.

“Goodbye, my friends. I shall miss you,” Ororo mumbled and sensing her mixed emotions of sadness and joy Legolas pulled her closer, his lips dancing over her forehead in a kiss as loving and soft as butterfly wings.

“Fare well,” Gandalf mumbled, his eyes on the ground where the portal had been moments before. Only silence answered him.


	35. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final goodbuy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did The X-men return to their own time? I’ve been asked that a lot. However, this was always seen from Middle Earth’s POV and therefore since they wouldn’t know neither this tale doesn’t say what happened. But whatever you believe will be the truth.  
> Have you read those X-men comics where the X-men cross into Star Trek? Or are sent into outer space, into parallel universes or back or forward in time? Well, they exist so I figured sending them to Middle Earth wasn’t really that far out though I knew it would be a stretch for some as it would demand radical changes to both fandoms; hence me calling this a AU novel.  
> Well…here we are…After 3 years, almost 4, I was beginning to wonder if this day would ever come! Yes. It’s finished. This story is completed at 400 pages. It’s kinda strange that this story will no longer be a part of my life….  
> Well, I guess all there’s left to say is thanks so much to all who’ve stayed with me. I hope you found it worth it. Your support and your kind feedback have meant the world to me. Special thanks to all my betas, editor and artists who’ve helped improve this fic. *hugs*  
> As always feedback will mean the world to me.  
> Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story.

###  Epilogue

Sixty-seven years had gone by since Rogue and Logan’s departure. The storms had settled down and Ororo had remained in Middle Earth. Aigle had grown up to have her father’s immortality and easy grace as well as the amazing athletic strength of the Elven people but had inherited her mother’s white hair and her eyes were totally white as well. She was able to fly or rather glide on the winds but could otherwise not manipulate the weather. She had been warned that if she married a mortal she would have to give up her immortality but she had readily done so when she had fallen in love with Faramir and Eowyn’s oldest son, proving herself to be as sacrificing as her parents.

Ororo and Legolas had had one more child, another girl, who had only a vague hint of pointed ears but had Legolas’ hair and eyes. However, she had inherited Ororo’s mutant gene and had developed telepathy, one of the more common mutations back on Earth. Due to her mutation she preferred the company of Elves whose thoughts were ordered and pure and did not hurt her mind. Ororo had tried to teach her how to put up mental shields but as each year passed by she lost more and more memories of Earth and she couldn’t recall Xavier’s lessons, especially since they had never been relevant for her. This meant that often being in the company of men or other races than Elves pained her and even her mother’s presence could pain her if she spent too much time with her. Ororo had a much calmer and more ordered mind than most humans and of humans, she and Faramir, both having calm and gentle minds, were Ororo’s second child’s favourite people but they did not have the mental abilities of the Elves. Thus their second child, named Jean after Ororo’s friend, were her father’s child like Aigle had been her mother’s.

Ororo and Legolas had gotten no more children after their second one but had often taken care of Aragorn’s and Arwen’s since they lived at the palace. Aragorn and Arwen had gotten eleven daughters until they finally got the male heir they needed, a fact which especially Eowyn had protested against, finding it unfair that the youngest child would inherit simply because of his gender. Eowyn and Faramir had got two children, a boy they had named Boromir Eomer, honouring their brothers who they loved dearly and a son they had named Elboron in honour of their Elven friends. Young Boromir had inherited his father’s gentle beauty and love for art and poetry but had his mother’s fire when he saw an injustice. He was probably one of the most honourable warriors in Gondor, only fighting if there was no other way. He was also a great supporter for all his mother’s causes, like better rights for women and his father’s passionate cause to better the living conditions for the commoners. Faramir and Eowyn had their own palace in Emyn Arnen, a range of hills in Ithilien within sight of Minas Tirith. However, they would spend many days at Aragorn’s palace in Minas Tirith and over the years Aigle and Boromir had fallen in love. Forfeiting her immortality for her love Aigle also gave up her title as princess of Mirkwood to marry Boromir who would inherit his father’s title as prince of Ithilien while his younger brother inherited their mother’s title and grounds in Rohan, granting Aigle the status as princess of Ithilien after her marriage.

Since Legolas was not the oldest or an only child Jean would inherit Legolas’ titles and lands but given his own immortality she had quite a few years in which she could prepare for any royal duties, especially considering that Legolas himself didn’t yet attend to any and he was over 6000 years old.

The years had seemed to pass by quickly. Ororo’s thoughts would often wander to her friends and when Faramir had finished his statues she would come to the royal garden from where her friends had left and would sit and talk to the statues of her friends. She especially loved the one of Scott; he looked regal in royal Gondorian robes, a serious and protecting state over him but there was a sadness to his face that Faramir had caught masterly, remembering the pain Phoenix’s presence had brought him. Talking to the lifelike statue had made her feel as if he had been resurrected in some way. For obvious reasons he hadn’t done one for Jean as to Middle Earth there had never been a Jean, only Phoenix.

Ororo had spent her time learning to sew and learning about Middle Earth politics and history. She had learnt how to speak Legolas’ Elven dialect and read Elfish literature as well as literature from the other races. She would try and come up with small inventions, like a primitive kind of indoor plumbing which had been inspired by the indoor plumbing in the Roman noble houses on Earth during the reign of the Roman Empire. She had tried to help create a more comfortable existence for everyone as she took the fact that Middle Earth had accepted her as a sign that she could give Middle Earth as many improvements from Earth as possible. The people of Gondor loved and admired her and she learned to love her new life. Legolas and her spent most of their time in Gondor in Aragorn’s palace so Legolas could also enjoy his time with his mortal bond brother. Her only sorrow was the absence of her friends and the uncertainty about their fate. Had they reached Earth? Were they well? Was Earth alright? Had Jean and Scott returned to Earth upon their deaths? It was logical to assume that since the storms had ceased in Middle Earth that Earth would be safe as well but she didn’t know for sure.

Now, in her 102nd year of life nothing could prevent her from sliding into a sleep from which she would never awake. She had asked Legolas to stay and not follow her into death. With their two daughters remaining Legolas had promised to try and do just that. Aragorn had from his ancestors inherited a longer life span than other humans and as long as he remained Legolas had vowed he would remain as well. Of the council of friends they had kept since the War they had had to bury Eomer who had died from a fever illness twenty years prior and Faramir and Eowyn had died four years ago, dying within days of each other, Eowyn following her husband. Frodo had left for the Undying Lands only a few years after the end of the War, unable to settle back into the quiet life of the Shire, having been too scarred by the War. Sam had wished to follow him but Frodo had wanted him to stay and as always Sam had done what he had been asked to do. However, the day Sam himself had died, more than forty years after Frodo, had been the first time since Frodo’s departure that Ororo had ever seen the kind hearted Hobbit smile. Merry and Pippin had lived full lives at the Shire but hadn’t been unmarked by their experience and had often visited Faramir at his palace, talking about his brother who they had all loved. They had never been able to get over Boromir’s death and because of that Ororo had been glad that the two Hobbits had died before Faramir for his death, their last link to Boromir, would have grieved them greatly. Now, besides Arwen and Aragorn the only ones left from the War were the Elves and an ageing Gimli who Legolas would help to the Undying Lands within a few years.

When Ororo had felt her time was near she had requested to be moved to the palace garden from where her friends had departed so many years ago and Legolas had carried his dying wife himself, down all the stairs of the palace and out into the beautiful sunny autumn garden, filled with colourful flowers and beautiful statues, many of them of Faramir’s design. Legolas had had a waiter set up a beautifully Elven carved and soft diva and had gently laid Ororo down upon it. He covered her frail and weak body dressed in the finest of night-dresses made from white silk with a soft white blanket.

Legolas then knelt beside her on the grass and stroked her face, pearly tears appearing in his eyes.

“Do not weep for me, husband. This is the nature of all things…the way all living things, big or small, must end their days,” Ororo said softly, weakly and tried to stroke his hair but lacked the strength.

Legolas caught her hand in his and softly kissed her palm. “Yet I will not,” he mumbled, locking eyes with her.

She smiled faintly. “No, my magical beloved. You will never grow old.” Even in his grief he looked as beautiful as he had the first day they had met. While some humans who married Elves came to resent them for their eternal youth while they themselves grew old Ororo had never done so, never felt that way. Growing old and dying was a natural process that she had never tried to fight, knowing she wouldn’t win.

“Nîn meleth,” he whispered, a lump in his throat, tears in his voice.

“Shh, love. Listen,” she said and her eyes went to the leaves dancing in the wind and the treetops being moved by that same wind. “Can you hear?”

Rushing leaves, small animals, the smell of flowers…”Life, melda, life,” he said with a longing and almost desperate edge to his voice.

“Life and death,” she corrected gently. Her eyelids grew heavy and she knew it was time. “You gave me the life I thought I could never have. You gave me love. I thank you,” she whispered weakly, her voice tired.

“My love will always be yours. Till the end of time,” he said sincerely and held her hand close, holding it over his heart.

She smiled warmly, her eyes looking at his still young and handsome face. She still couldn’t believe he had stayed with her till the end, loving her despite her ageing body yet that was how Elves loved, wholly and with their souls, having no concern for physical appearance. “I would have made any sacrifice to stay with you. I just pray no one else had to pay the price for my happiness.”

Knowing this was her greatest concern Legolas stroked her now thin and grey but still beautiful long hair. “What words is it you use when you pray to your Goddess? Have faith? Have faith now, my wife…Have faith.” He softly kissed her forehead and as he drew back she smiled at him, her eyes closing.

“You made my life worth living,” she whispered softly, her voice fading.

“An eternity without love is a curse; not a blessing. You blessed my life,” he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks when he realised her eyes had frozen, half-open they stared at him, never to move again. Her lips were slightly curved towards a smile and she looked peaceful, like a natural extension of the beautiful autumn day. The sun was setting, bathing the garden in rays of red and yellow.

“Nîn meleth… Lye inye melme,” he whispered as tears blurred his vision. He had known she was dying but still felt a sharp pain in his soul when he lost the connection with her soul. But it was his heart that hurt as he realised this was the end. He remained kneeling by the diva, holding Ororo’s hand, his head resting beside Ororo’s on the pillow as the year’s first snow began to fall.

The sun rose and the sun set yet he remained. Aragorn came to get him on the third day when the ground was frozen and the two lovers lay beneath a blanket of snow. First then did he let go of the woman who had become his life.

* * *

Time went by, borders changed, countries rose and fell as the Dwarf race died with Gimli, Aragorn’s family line faded into oblivion and the last Elves left the lands.

Years turned into decades. Decades turned into millennia and slowly history became legend and legend became myth. A fairytale arose from the mist of time, telling about four magical warriors from another place with powers unseen to Middle Earth, a brave leader, a beautiful Goddess, a mighty man-beast with claws of silver and a sorceress tormented by her own powers. It told of the brave sacrifice of the leader of the men of Gondor and of the leader of the strangers. It told of the evil Phoenix, who was as evil as she was beautiful. It told the bittersweet tale of the man-beast and the sorceress who was wedded in love but who had been cursed for their forbidden passion so that they could never touch. It told a tale of an Elven prince and the Goddess, who sacrificed everything to stay with the Elven prince she had come to love. It told of a bloody and terrible war that had given birth to heroes and villains alike and which had given birth to the strongest of loves and the deadliest of sleeps.

Untouched by change, deep within ruins which had once been a mighty castle lay a beautiful flowery garden, filled with statues which even now, plagued by age, seemed to shine. Legend said that on a warm autumn night when one could hear the rushing of leaves and the sound of small animals. When one could smell the most bittersweet of flowers…then if one looked closely, one could see two figures in the garden, a woman laying on a diva and her Elven lover kneeling beside her, keeping vigil over her till the end of time.

**_The End_ **

_Translations to Elfish words_

_Nîn meleth – my love_

_Lye inye melme – I love you_

_melda – beloved_

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


End file.
